


Night Dragons

by GreedofRage



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Edric dayne is older, Extra Dragons, F/M, Gets better at Ch 20, Jon becomes a wight, Jon has dragons, Jonerys, Pregnancy, The War for the Dawn, not a smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-02-07 12:39:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 87
Words: 354,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12841362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreedofRage/pseuds/GreedofRage
Summary: Before the battle at Castle Black, Maester Aemon tasked Grenn with delivering a message to his niece in Mereen. After the battle, Maester Aemon reveals that he has kept secrets of his own while serving at Castle Black, including two dragon eggs. Based on the show and I haven't read the books.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 1-11 have been revised as of 1-21-19  
> Chapter 12-20 still works in progress

Prologue

Aemon

The cold winds at the Wall blew gently throughout the cracks in the stones and planks of Castle Black. Never before has the castle been as vacant as it was after Lord Commander Mormont led the rangers beyond the Wall. When the day came that the horn was blown signaling the return, there was much hope brought to the rangers. But it died when only two of the three hundred that left came back and brought the news of the Lord Commander's death. The mood had ever since been as cold as the ice of the Wall.

Maester Aemon sat in a chair next to the hearth of his chambers, visualizing the flames and the heat. He himself had never possessed the invulnerability to fire, yet he found an alluring comfort to it that only those with the blood of the Dragon could feel. Behind him, he heard the voice of one of his brothers of the Night's Watch.

"You sent for me Maester Aemon?"

"Grenn, yes come sit with me a moment." Grenn obliged and sat in the chair opposite of the Maester's. "I have need of someone whom I can trust to safely deliver a message for me to a place far from here."

"And you want me to?" He asked with curiosity.

"Indeed, but if you feel that you wish not to, I will respect your decision."

"Actually, if it really is far from here, I wouldn't mind going. Anything to get me out of the cold." Grenn chuckled. "Where is it I would be?"

Maester Aemon didn't respond immediately as if he himself had to take a moment to comprehend the answer. "Essos."

Grenn sat up, wide-eyed. "Essos?"

"Meereen to be exact."

"Who could you possibly know from there?"

"My niece, Daenerys. Word has reached me that she has become queen and rid the cities of slavery."

Grenn was shocked, still trying to believe that the Maester wanted him to go to Essos. "I don't mean any offense, but why? She probably doesn't even know you're alive, even who you are."

"No, she probably doesn't. As far as she knows, she is the only one of her family left in the world. And after I pass, she will continue to think that even if she learns of me. I don't expect you to understand, but I sense great dangers ahead of her. As one of her only living blood, the least I can do is provide words of comfort to her."

Grenn took a moment to gather his thoughts, he'd never been anywhere but the North. To go to another continent was overwhelming. "Why me? Wouldn't Sam be a better choice? I mean, we don't exactly know each other that well. And he is your personal steward I would've thought you trusted him more. And I don't think Ser Alliser will want anyone leaving when we need to be preparing for Mance Rayder's army."

"I will take care of Ser Alliser. And Sam has something more than his duty that requires him here."

"Oh, right. He never stops talking about her."

Maester Aemon smiled heartily with a laugh. "We all fall in love at least once in our lives. So then, can I trust you to help me?"

There was a brief silence between the two men of the Night's watch. The only noise made was by the cracking of the fire. Grenn looked at the Maester, his hands shaking at the pressure of the task. "I'll do it."

Maester Aemon gave Grenn a small smile before standing up. "Would you be so kind as to fetch a quill and parchment, and write down what I dictate. Though I must warn you, the words I say must stay between the two of us until they are delivered. Can I trust you with that as well?"

Grenn sat at a desk with parchment and quill ready to write. "I swear on my life as a Ranger of the Night's Watch to never tell anyone." He was an honorable lad to do so, a trait he most likely picked up from Jon Snow.

Maester Aemon began to speak his message and Grenn wrote his words as best he could. When he had finished, Grenn folded the parchment and sealed it with wax. He looked at Maester Aemon who was watching him, his eyes were blind yet Grenn could feel as if he was looking at his very soul. "No one will know what's on here but you, me, and your niece."

"I have arranged for a ship at Eastwatch that will take you to White Harbor when you arrive. From there you must book passage to Mereen. If you inform Lord Manderly that you are traveling for official business of the Night's Watch, he shall take care of finding a ship for you."

"I'll leave tonight." Grenn folded the letter and stamped it with a wax seal. "I promise you I will get this to her."

"I can't thank you enough for this Grenn. Now go on, you need time to prepare."

With that said, Grenn left and Maester Aemon sat back down at the fire. He could feel himself getting weaker by the day. His time was coming to an end.

Though he was blind, he turned his head to the fire in the hearth of his room, imagining the flames dancing and keeping him warm and the secret underneath as well. He thought back to the last day he saw Brynden Rivers before he vanished beyond the Wall.

_'Must you go?" Aemon asked. 'There are rumors spreading beyond the Wall about a danger even the Wildlings fear.'_

_'Which is why I must go.' Brynden told him. 'If a handful of rangers talk such things, their brothers think them to be madmen. But if the Lord Commander says the same things, then it is unquestionable. And… there's something else.'_

_'What is it?'_

_'My dreams have been more frequent. They linger like a sickness, telling me that the cure is beyond the Wall.'_

_'You mean the ones about the legends of the White Walkers?'_

_'Not the legends. I think my dreams are of the future.'_

_'What makes you say such a thing?'_

_'I've read every text about the Long Night I could, and none of them mention dragons fighting against the White Walkers. And I keep hearing the same words repeat over and over. The Promised shall bring the Dawn.'_

That day had Aemon on edge about what was to come. If Daenerys really did have dragons, then the world needed them when the dead come.


	2. Aemon I

Aemon

The days that were were filled with constant bickering among the brothers of the Watch. Rumors about the Lord Commander's sympathy for the Wildlings was turning brother against brother.

Maester Aemon was not near any of it, however. His health was failing him and his strength waining from the world. But he found a bit of it when Samwell had come to him in the library with a report from Mereen, a report about Daenerys.

"And though Daenerys maintains her grip on Slavers Bay, forces rise against her from within and without. She refuses to leave until the freedom of the former slaves is secure." Samwell concluded the reading of the raven scroll to Maester Aemon. "She sounds like quite a woman."

Targaryens were always ones to impress whether it was with madness or greatness. Aemon was grateful that Daenerys wasn't the former. "And she's alone. Under siege. No family to guide her or protect. Her last relation, thousands of miles away. Useless and dying."

"Don't say that Maester Aemon."

Aemon always appreciated Sam's kindness. "A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing."

Their conversation was stalled when the sound of approaching footsteps against the wooden floor grew louder. "Maester Aemon." Jon Snow said softly as he entered the room.

"Lord commander," Aemon replied.

"Sam, I'd like to speak to the Maester alone." Sam immediately gather his things and left Jon with Maester Aemon. Jon took the seat Sam was using and faced the Maester. "How are you feeling?" He asked as he removed his gloves.

"Oh, like a hundred-year-old man slowly freezing to death," he replied with a chuckle.

"I need your advice. There's something I want to do, something I have to do. But it will divide the Night's Watch, bitterly. Half the men will hate me the moment I give the order."

"Half the men already hate you lord commander, do it!"

"But you don't know what it is-"

"That doesn't matter, you do." Maester Aemon placed his hand on Jon's face as a father would to his son to give him comfort, but also to feel the warmth that he had. "You will find little joy in your command. But, with luck, you find the strength to do what needs to be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy, and let the man be born."

Jon let the words sink into his mind before he felt the motivation from them. 'Kill the boy, let the man be born'. "Thank you, Maester Aemon." Jon stood up and made his way out of the library.

"Be sure to send Samwell back in," the Maester called out. Almost instantaneously, Sam had re-entered the library and took his seat by the Maester.

"Is everything alright?" Sam asked with a tone of concern in his voice.

"For now." He stood up and held his arm out to Sam. "Escort me to my chambers, there is something I need to retrieve." Sam did as he was told and guided Maester Aemon to his chambers. Maester Aemon sat in his chair next to the empty fire pit, shivering from the cold. Sam noticed this and went to retrieve some wood for a fire, but was stopped. "Just a moment Samwell." Sam looked at him, confused and curious. It was fairly cold and it would only get colder. Maester Aemon motioned toward the empty hearth. "There is a secret underneath there. A secret I have kept hidden since before my time here at Castle Black. I want you to see it."

Sam approached the fireplace and noticed that the main slab of stone in the floor of it was loose. He traced his fingers along the ends of a large stone slab in the center and found a place to grip it. He pulled as hard as he could but found that his strength was probably as much as the Maester's. Eventually, he pulled the slab out of place and dragged it out of the fireplace. He looked at the space revealed and couldn't believe what he saw. Underneath the fireplace were two large stones covered in ash. Both of them had a matching scaled texture, but different in color. One was blue like the sky in the morning, and the other was as white as Ghost.

"Are these what I think they are?" He asked looking wide-eyed at Maester Aemon.

"Bring them here," he said, holding his arms out.

Sam brought them to Maester Aemon, who embraced them. His eye's closed as he took in the moments he had with them. "Do you know what these are?"

"I think so, but I just can't believe it. I never would've thought there to be dragon eggs in Castle Black."

"These eggs were given to me by Brynden Rivers before he joined the watch. Since then, they have been under my care until they were ready for the one Brynden said was to have them."

"Who?" Samwell asked with great curiosity.

"That answer shall be revealed soon." He opened his eyes and revealed a mix of joy and sadness in them. "I can feel my time coming to its end, Sam. I've barely the strength to stand on my own now."

"Don't say that, Maester."

"Sam, I have been on this earth for a hundred years. I have not a clue of any other who has lived that long. I have lived through great wars that painted this country red with blood, but only as one to hear of them. And I cannot bear it." Aemon could feel the sadness from Sam. "When my time comes, place these with me on my pyre. But until then," he held them out to Sam "keep them safe."

Sam took each of the eggs in his hands, still marveled at them. "Maester Aemon I-"

"Samwell, I must ask you not to question me on this. It is what must be done."

Sam's eyes fell to the eggs and he could still feel the heat they gave. It was comforting and reminded him of when we would hold Little Sam in his arms. "Yes, Maester Aemon."

"Now, put the floor back in its place and get a fire going. If I freeze any more than I am now, not even dragonfire could warm me up." Sam smiled at his remark and did as he was told.


	3. Daenerys I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maester Aemon has passed away, but a few days later than Sam had expected him to

Daenerys

Inside her bedchambers in the Great Pyramid of Mereen, Daenerys lay on a long sofa, drinking wine and trying to contemplate her decisions to open the fighting pits and whether or not she will enjoy her forthcoming marriage with Hizdahr zo Loraq. 'Of course, I won't enjoy it,' she thought 'I don't even need to enjoy it, as long as it will create a stable image for the people.' Keeping stability was proving to be harder than she expected. Sons of the Harpy were continuously evading capture and the uprisings in Slavers Bay were becoming more frequent.

As Daenerys took another sip of wine from her goblet, Missandei entered her room. "Your Grace, forgive me for the intrusion, but there is a young man here to see you. He says he is from Westeros and part of an order called the Night's Watch."

Daenerys was very surprised. She had heard about the Wall and the Night's Watch. Ser Jorah often spoke of his father Jeor, the Lord Commander. But for what reason could a member have here? "I'll be just a moment," she replied. Missandei bowed her head and left the room. Daenerys set her goblet down on a table and put her regal mask on. She made her way to the throne room and saw a young man. He was a ginger who looked older than her, though the beard he had seemed to add a few years of age to him. He was dressed in all black leathers and held a thick black cloak underneath his arm. There was no doubt he didn't wear it because of the heat of Essos.

When he saw her, he immediately fell to one knee. "Your Grace," he spoke softly. He didn't look like much, but he knew of courtesies to royalty.

Daenerys studied him a bit more before addressing him. "What is your name?" She asked with a firm tone.

"Grenn, your Grace."

"Rise, Grenn of the Night's Watch."

Grenn slowly stood up and only gazed at her for only a brief moment before fixing his eyes on her face. He looked the way many who had met her did, with infatuation.

"I must admit that I am very curious as to why a man of the Night's Watch would be requesting my presence, let alone be in Essos."

"Y-your Grace" he stuttered "I afraid that I may disappoint you, but all I'm here for is to deliver a message."

He was right. It did disappoint her a little that a message was the only reason. Her spark of curiosity nearly died, but there was still the matter of the message. "A message? From who, the Lord Commander?" She took a few steps closer to Grenn, his face turning redder than his hair.

"No, your grace. It's from the Maester at Castle Black. He tasked me to deliver this letter to you." He revealed a sealed piece of parchment in his free hand and held it out to her.

She looked at his hand, her face not showing any form of expression the whole time. "Who is the Maester at Castle Black, if I might ask?"

Grenn swallowed nervously, his eyes unable to look at her before replying. "Aemon Targaryen."

When Daenerys heard that name, her regal mask cracked and she let slip a look of surprise before she collected herself. "I apologize, but I find that hard to believe. The last Aemon Targaryen that lived would be a hundred years of age. Far older than anyone I have ever known or heard of."

"He's a hundred on two, actually." Grenn corrected her. "If you met him, you wouldn't think him a Targaryen. You'd think his silver hair to be because of his age and his eyes are bleak of color from his blindness." He pushed the letter a little closer to her, insisting she take it. "I should let you know that it's probably best that you read it to yourself. I know what's in the letter and I wish I didn't know."

"You read the letter?"

"I wrote it. Maester Aemon told what he wanted to be written down because he can't see."

Daenerys could see his hand shaking. He looked afraid and at the same time determined. She didn't know if he was telling the truth or not, but she could feel that he wasn't lying. She reached out and took the letter from Grenn. When the parchment left his fingers, Grenn let out a large sigh. "Thank you for coming all this way for something so simple. You must be weary from your travels. May I offer you anything during your stay here?"

"I'm afraid not. I arrived here yesterday morning and I'll be leaving tonight. As much as I want to stay where I don't freeze, I have a duty to the realms of men."

Daenerys felt a bit ashamed. This man had come all this way for so little a task. "If that is the case, is there anything I can offer you? I do not feel that such a task should go unrewarded or unpaid."

Grenn's gaze was able to look back at her eyes. "With respect your Grace, this isn't anything I can really ask for. We don't have any sort of treasures or valuables at the wall. The only thing we really value are the men who man the castles. There was just over seven hundred of us in the whole watch when I left Castle Black. But on my way here, word reached me that we lost fifty brothers in a battle with an army of Wildlings." Where there was once ten thousand men of the Night's Watch, there was now less than seven hundred. It was failing and if things continued as they did then there would be only empty castles along the Wall.

This had given Daenerys an idea. She walked towards the steps to the throne and made her way up. "Even though I have abolished slavery in this city, there are many who still have no place to go, nowhere to call home." She reached the seat of the throne and turned back towards Grenn. "If Lord Commander Mormont isn't too particular about where he gets his recruits, I can provide a great deal to you if you merely ask me to."

"Your Grace, Lord Commander Mormont is dead." He looked amazed that she even knew about him.

This came as a surprise to Daenerys. 'Does Jorah know?' "Forgive me, I was unaware."

"There's nothing to forgive your Grace. You're probably the only person in Essos who would know Lord Commander Mormont's name."

"As my focus to the west has been the Seven Kingdoms, I have neglected to think of the men who protect them at the Wall. What is the current status of the Night's Watch?"

"As far as I know, the Night's Watch does not have an elected Lord Commander, only an acting one, Ser Alliser Thorne. If any man was the absolute arse of them all, it would be him. But he commands well, as much as I don't like admitting it. But we've ought to have had the election for a new one by now."

"Then as one who will be the Queen of Westeros, it is my duty to tend and care for my people. I will do what I can to strengthen your Order as a sign of good faith and gratitude for the service you have done for me. I only ask that you have faith in me."

"Thank you, your grace." He bowed his head down to her and rose back up. "I mean no offense, but I must take my leave now if I am to make back to my ship."

Daenerys give him a small smile of assurance "I thank you for your service to the realms. You may go."

Grenn bowed his head one last time before turning and leaving the Great Pyramid with haste.

Daenerys held up the letter and inspected the wax seal. It was stamped with the Targaryen Sigil. She returned to her bedchambers and sat back on her sofa. She broke the seal and read the letter to herself.

My dearest niece

Though we have never met and never will, I cannot describe the joy it brings me to have this chance. My vows and my body keep me from any aid I might be able to give to you, but I pray that any wisdom or comfort in these words will help guide you in your struggles. I understand the world you wish to build, and I understand the desire. I had seen it once in my brother Aegon, your grandfather. Unfortunately, as you may now realize, there are times that a ruler must face a choice. To do what is right or to do what is demanded. I have faith you will be wise in your choices and reclaim what is rightfully yours. Though I caution you, do not let your desire for a throne of swords consume your judgment as to what you desire to do and what you must do.

I wish I could be there when you arrive in Westeros. Remind the people that we are the blood of the dragon, and we meet our enemies with Fire and Blood.

All I can give you now is my blessing. By the time you read this, I may be gone from this world. I shall return to my brother's side and my father's and his father before him. Though I will be gone, and you will feel alone again, I can promise you, you will not be alone. There is one more with the blood of the dragon in his veins.

Your great uncle Aemon Targaryen

Sworn Maester of Castle Black

Daenerys could feel tears drop from her eyes onto the letter. Deep down, she knew that this was no trick by her enemies. She felt the truth of the words. She was not the last Targaryen. There was someone else out in the world with the blood of the dragon. And according to this letter, there was one more.

Missandei entered Daenerys's chamber and saw her state. "Your grace," Daenaerys wiped the tears from her face and looked at her friend, "is everything alright?"

Daenerys couldn't help but smile at her. "Yes, in fact, things are wonderful."


	4. Sam I & Jon I

Sam

The majority of the brothers of the Night's Watch were inside the common room, eating their supper. At the Officer's Table, Ser Alliser, Othell Yarwyck, and Bowen Marsh were conversing quietly amongst themselves when Samwell had entered the room. "Brothers" he called out. Everyone inside turned their attention to Sam, awaiting what he had to say. "It is with great sadness that I tell you all that Maester Aemon's watch has ended this night." There were many stricken with grief when they heard his words and there were those that showed no care at all.

Ser Alliser stood up at the Officers table, his mood was unchanged. "Thank you for informing us Tarly. We'll build a pyre tomorrow morning and inform the other brothers." He sat back down and resumed speaking with the other officers.

Samwell left the common room and returned to Maester Aemon's chambers. Inside, he saw Gilly holding the white dragon egg. She looked at him before placing the egg back on the table it was on next to the blue one. "I'm sorry, I've never seen one before."

Sam couldn't help but smile a little "It's alright. I don't think anyone beyond the Wall has seen a dragon egg before." He looked over at Maester Aemon's lifeless body on the bed and his smile faded. "We're going to have his funeral tomorrow in the afternoon rather than tonight so all of the Brothers may be present."

"He was a kind man, Sam."

"Aye, probably the kindest in all of Westeros." Not only that, but he was a dear friend and mentor to Sam. He wished he had a grandfather like him.

"Did he tell anything about the stones?"

Sam shook his head. "All he told me was that they are meant to go to someone after his passing and the answer would be revealed. But I still don't understand." That was one thing Sam wished Maester Aemon had clarified instead of speaking in riddles.

"Maybe there's an answer in a book. You always find answers there." Gilly said with a comforting smile. At least she appreciated his ambitions of reading.

"I don't know. The only books in the library that speak of dragons are the tales of Aegon the Conqueror." Before Sam could continue, the faint sound of a horn could be heard coming from atop the wall. Gilly looked at Sam with concern, waiting to see how many blasts would follow. The silence continued long enough the give them relief. "Jon's back." He told her as he left to the room.

It wasn't until a half hour later that the gates were opened and many Wildlings began coming through. As soon as Sam spotted Jon, he walked over to him and they both embraced each other with a hug. Even though he was glad Jon was back, but Jon didn't look the same. He looked like he did when he was brooding.

The news of Maester Aemon still kept Sam's spirits down. He stood next to Jon and looked at all the Wildings coming through.

"It was a failure," Jon told him.

"It wasn't." Sam insisted.

"I went to save them, I failed."

Sam looked at all the Wildings coming through and saw the distraught on their faces more than the relief. "You didn't fail him," Sam said, pointing to a Wildling that walked by, "or him, or her. Every one of them is alive because of you, and no one else."

Jon's gaze left the Wildings and focused on his brothers. "I don't think that fact is lost on them." Sam looked with Jon and could see the rage on many of the brothers of the Night's Watch. Their attention was turned to the tunnel as Giants began to exit. At least eight giants and twelve of their children came through, followed by a wilding riding a Snow Bear.

Sam turned his attention back to Jon. "Maester Aemon passed away today." Jon turned his head to look at Sam, his jaw fell slightly open with disbelief. "We're going to have his funeral tomorrow afternoon."

Jon's gaze fell to the ground before Ser Alliser stood next to him. "You have a good heart Jon Snow, and it's going to get us all killed." He didn't even wait for Jon to respond when he made his way through the Wildings, shoving them aside, as he joined his other brothers who shared his anger.

"There's something you should see," Sam told Jon. "Something Maester Aemon showed me."

Sam led Jon to Maester Aemon's chambers. When they entered, it felt colder than usual being empty of the man who had helped each of them so much as brothers of the Watch. Gilly was with Little Sam in the corner sitting down.

"Over here," Sam brought Jon to the table where the eggs rested.

Jon's brooding mood didn't change at all. "He left some rocks?"

"They're not rocks, they're eggs, Jon. Dragon eggs."

Jon's expression turned into absolute wonder when he found out what they were. He removed one of his gloves and slowly reach out to touch the blue one. When his hand met the surface of the egg, he let out a large breath. "I didn't expect it to feel warm."

"What?" Sam asked. He took off his own glove and felt the surface of the blue egg but felt nothing but cold. "It's probably because you're still freezing from north of the Wall." Sam jested, but Jon wasn't having any of it.

"Sam. When I said I failed, I mean I failed. There were a hundred thousand Wildlings at Hardhome and we only brought back ten thousand. What does think happened to the rest?"

Sam felt a wave of cold shiver through him when he finally realized what Jon meant. Where they once had a chance against the white walkers, now they hadn't the slightest of one. He hoped that the Wall would be tall enough to keep the dead out when they came.

* * *

Jon

After all the Free Folk had made it through the wall and the gate was closed, Jon called for a meeting with his brothers. They all gathered together, many of them talking among themselves when Jon took his seat at the High Table.

"Brothers!" Jon called out. "I know many of you are starting to have seconds thoughts about electing me your Lord Commander. You may still be questioning my allegiance after letting ten thousand Free Folk south of the Wall."

"That's ten thousand reavers and savages!" One of the brothers called out and many agreed with him.

"Lord Snow," Ser Alliser spoke, "you put your faith in brigands who have been our enemy since the foundations of the Night's Watch. What makes you think they won't come marching back here in the night and slit our throats in the darkness. We could barely hold back when that friend of yours attacked. And now there's an army of them!"

"An army we need!" Jon nearly shouted. He felt himself repeating what he was talking with Sam about. "We weren't the only ones who went to Hardhome. The Night King and his army came just after we did and added every man, woman, and child he didn't walk through the gate today to his army. An army far worse than Wildlings is coming. An army we can't defeat by ourselves." There was silence the brothers. They needed time to accept that they were the ones who stood by while Wildlings were let south. "Tomorrow, we begin discussing the defense against the dead. Back to your duties."

Jon immediately retired for the rest of the day. He was too exhausted to focus on anything else. Tormund went with the Free Folk and would help them settle in the Gift and work through their issues for now. But with the news of Maester Aemon's passing and what had happened at Hardhome, he needed to rest. And then there were the eggs. Why in seven hells would there be dragon eggs at the Wall?

In his dreams, Jon found himself curled up, trapped inside some form of a cage. His eyes were closed as if he was waiting to be released. He felt no exit, yet he knew how to escape. He knew what the key was to his release, yet only someone outside of his cage could free him. 'His death has paid for life, only fire with break us free.' His eyes opened and he could see his body, only it wasn't his and it wasn't one body but two. Instead of hands, he saw a pair of white wings and a pair of blue wings, and instead of skin, he had scales that matched the color of the wings.

Morning came and Jon awoke from his sleep. He saw his brothers building the funeral pyre as he made his way to Maester Aemon's chambers. When he entered, he saw Sam and Gilly in chairs next to the bed. Sam was sleeping after dressing Maester Aemon in his black robes and chain.

Jon's eyes drifted back to the eggs. Something about them drew him to them. He walked over and picked up the white one, still feeling the heat he did yesterday despite Sam's assumption. Even though Sam had said they were eggs, the looked and felt like solid stone. Although Jon had never seen a dragon egg before and couldn't think of what these looked like when they were first laid. Maybe they looked smoother on the surface or had a shine to them.

He set the egg down when Sam started to wake up. "Jon, shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"It's already morning, Sam," Jon informed with half a smile.

Snow fell lightly In the training yard. Jon stood next to Sam and Edd at the head of Maester Aemon's pyre. Brothers of the Watch and even some elderly Wildings who knew him were present. Each side had their hate for the other, but there was also respect for those who deserved it.

Jon held a torch while Sam spoke the eulogy to everyone around. "His name was Aemon Targaryen. He came to us from Kings Landing. A maester of the Citadel, chained and sworn, and sworn brother of the Night's Watch ever faithful. No man was wiser, or gentler, or kinder. At the Wall, a dozen lord commanders came and went during his years of service, but he was always there to counsel them. He was the blood of the dragon, but now his fire has gone out, and now his watch has ended."

The rest of the Night's Watch repeated the words. "And now his watch has ended." Before the fire was lit, Sam approached the pyre and placed the eggs next to Maester Aemon's head. When he backed away, Jon lowered the Torch and ignited the pyre, then passed the torch to Sam who did the same.

After Ser Alliser had passed the torch, he leaned over to Sam's head. "You're losing all your friends Tarly."

Sam's eyes looked at the men around him and saw the same look Rast had always given him in many of the eyes that looked back at him.

As the flames grew higher, the Brothers and Wildlings began to disperse, all except for Jon. He remained by the side of the fire. His gaze never left Maester Aemon's face as he ignited the pyre. 'I need your help, now more than ever' he thought as he gave the torch to Sam. As everyone left the burning pyre, Jon stayed. He couldn't bear to watch Ygritte burn, but this he would see through to the end.

Even when it had all been reduced to ash, he still stood there. Sam approached him, worried if his friend was alright. "Jon, I know you're upset about a lot of things right now, but you haven't eaten anything since you've returned. Nothing good will come from starving yourself. Let's go get something from Hobb."

Considering all that's happened, he couldn't deny that he was hungry. He turned from the ashes and began to walk away with Sam. As he only took a few steps away, he heard a noise from behind him coming from the ashes. The sound was somehow soothing to hear, like when he would hear Ghost howling. He turned back and slowly walked over to the ashes, noticing small movements. "It can't be," he said as he knelt down at the moving rubble.

Jon sifted his hand in the ashes before the heads of two small creatures popped out like blooming flowers. They both climbed out from the charcoal and ash and hopped towards Jon excitedly. He panicked and fell backward onto his rear. Not knowing what to do, he held perfectly still as the two small dragons crawled onto him, screeching as if they were singing. He couldn't help but be marvel at them, the sound they made calmed him. A white one was crawling on top of his chest while a blue one was on his legs.

"By the gods," was all Sam could say as more men of the Night's Watch gathered around Jon and looked with wonder. The two dragons let out small screeches that sounded like a song. They were dragons born in the Night's Watch.

As he noticed many of his brothers gazing in wonder, Jon carefully scooped the dragons into his arms and stood up. In his right arm, he held a dragon with scales of a light blue as the egg it hatched from. The wings and spine were bluer like the winter rose. In his left arm, the dragon was pure white, except for the eyes. The eyes were orange, like fire.

Sam approached Jon and observed the dragons. He removed a glove from his hand and stuck out his index finger at the blue one. The dragon snapped at Sam, attempting to bite him, but he pulled away quick enough.

Jon was speechless, with not a single idea about what to do. Ghost slowly approached him and sniffed at the dragons. They screeched at him before the white one jumped out of Jon's arm and onto Ghost's head. The direwolf didn't seem to react at all, he even looked content with the dragon as it rested on his back.

Jon looked down at the dragon in his arm and saw it staring back at him. Its eyes were golden and filled with wonder.

"Jon," Sam said, "Maester Aemon said the eggs would go to someone after he was gone. He said the answer would be revealed after his burning. I think they're yours now."

Jon looked at Sam with disbelief, like he didn't want them. He had too many responsibilities as it is. Protecting the Free Folk, managing the Brothers of the Night's Watch, requesting reinforcements from Lords. And now he had to raise dragons? "No."

Sam looked at him confused. "What do you mean no?"

"I mean no, I won't do it. I'm not a Targaryen, I'm a Snow. I'm Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, not a dragonlord."

"But Jon, Maester Aemon must've known this would happen. The dragons have chosen you. And they'll die if they're not cared for."

Jon nodded once. "You're right, so they won't be staying here."

"But where will they go?"

"Where the only other dragons in the world are."

Sam looked down to Ghost and the white dragon, "But Jon, Maester Aemon-"

"Is dead!" Jon's voice scared the blue dragon out of his arms and it crawled next to Ghost. Jon was still trying to believe that two dragons have just hatched back into the world. If the rumors about Daenerys Targaryen were true, then there were now five living dragons in the world. "He managed to leave two dragons behind without telling anyone why or what to do! What do you expect me to-" Jon was cut off by the sound of a horn at the gate. It was a single blast which meant it wasn't any of the Free Folk. 'Could it be Stannis?' Jon thought as the gates opened. A lone rider came through, Grenn. He dismounted his horse and approached Jon. He was about to offer a hug but stopped in his tracks when he saw the two dragons with Ghost. "Where in Seven Hells have you been? I was told you went on an errand. I didn't expect it to take a few months."

"Maester Aemon sent me Essos." Grenn informed while in awe of the dragons. "What happened while I was gone? I heard that you were elected Lord Commander and you let the Wildlings through the Wall."

"I did."

Grenn looked at him with disbelief, confusion, and a bit of anger. "Where is Maester Aemon?"

Jon looked down to the grown and gestured at the remains of the pyre. "His watch has ended."

Grenn looked back at Jon and then at Ghost and saw the other dragon sitting on Ghost's back.

"When in seven hells were there dragon here?"


	5. Jon II

Jon

It had been a month since the hatching of the dragons, and already they had grown to more than twice their size. Some of the Free Folk who witnessed what happened were bringing the story back to the others that came with them. That would either make the rest of them even more uneasy than they already were about their new lives.

The brothers, on the other hand, were afraid of Jon. They feared that if they challenged him then they would have to be subject to the dragons. It seemed strange for them to act that way when the dragons were only hatchlings and couldn't so much as puff smoke, let alone make a spark.

Dragons would certainly change things. And word would soon spread throughout the North about them and once the Crown found out, gods know how they would react. To that from happening, Jon ordered no word of the dragons to leave the castle.

And yet in all that time, Jon neglected to name them. The matter of such was constantly brought up by Sam and Edd. Sam, however, found a few additional books that Maester had kept in his personal collection of books hidden away in a trunk. One of them was an account of the Tragedy at Summerhall and the other was some text written in High Valyrian. The latter had handwritten notes and even a few translation keys throughout its pages, most likely made by Maester Aemon.

Jon had only read through a few pages of the texts after Sam had gone through them and added his own notes. It was the least his friend could do before journeying to the Citadel and become a maester. He searched for any clues that could help him understand what he had to do. He didn't want the dragons but he wouldn't let such creatures of legend die out from the world. Unfortunately, the only information he learned was a few words in High Valyrian pertaining to dragons and an example of how NOT to hatch dragon eggs.

Sam and Edd joined Jon in his office as he was going over documents sent from the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch by the Sea. Dennis Mallister was informing his Lord Commander that there were some of the Free Folk asking to be let through the Wall and Cotter Pyke wrote that there were Essosi people arriving at the castle.

"I'm not naming them, they are not my dragons!" Jon exclaimed. He leaned back in his chair with a hand over his eyes. He was exhausted from all of his work. While he wanted no business with the dragons, he had no choice but to see to their care. He kept them in his office most of the time. Right now, the white one was hiding under Jon's desk while the blue one was sleeping with Ghost.

"And yet," Edd began, "they seem to like you more than us."

Sam had cut in between them. "Maybe it's because you're the first one they saw." Jon looked at him confused and awaiting Sam's theory. "For some animals, when they are born, they imprint on the first creature they see who they think is their parent. In this case, the girls seem to have chosen you as their father." Sam had a fixed smirk on his face the whole time he was talking.

"Girls?" Edd asked. "How do you know they're girls?"

Sam had blushed slightly before he gave his answer "I've been around them long enough that they let me get close now. So, this morning I checked between their legs and… looked at what was there, or rather wasn't."

Edd's brow was raised high, surprised Sam did that kind of observation. And yet, the one who laughed was Jon. Ever since his return from beyond the Wall, he was brooding fairly often. The white dragon crawled out from under Jon's desk and climbed on top of it. It made a growl that sounded more like a cat's purr as if demanding him to pet her. Jon placed his hand under her chin and began to slowly scratch it.

Jon locked eyes with the little white dragon. The fiery color was one that he had known and loved once before. He could almost hear Ygritte's words as if she were with him now.  _'You know nothin, Jon Snow.'_

It was at this moment he reached his breaking point. "Ygris." He whispered.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Her name will be Ygris. Her eyes are the same color as Ygritte's hair."

"And the other one?" Edd inquired, not letting Jon off yet.

Jon looked over to the blue dragon who was sleeping next to Ghost by his hearth. The blue of her wings kept making him think of the winter rose. He remembered that there was someone his father always gave a winter rose to. Someone in the crypts of Winterfell. His Aunt Lyanna.

"Lyarras, after my aunt Lyanna. Prince Rhaegar crowned her at a tourney at Harrenhal with winter roses." When Lyarras heard her name, her head raised and looked at Jon as if it was her name the whole time. Jon stood up and put on his cloak. "I'm going on watch duty, I need to think some things through." He said as he walked out. Ygris quickly jumped off the desk and tried to fly after Jon, but she did not have the strength to even get very high from the ground. Jon closed the door behind him and made his way to the top of the Wall, hearing the cry of Ygris from the room.

He didn't want to take her with him. A part of him wanted to accept the dragons but he couldn't let himself. In the month of their hatching, it was like having two children at the Wall. But these children did not understand all the struggles and bickerings of men. They were just their to others around them with wonder and awe, something that the Wall itself had done to Jon when he first gazed upon its structure.

He didn't want to become attached to them. He loved something once and lost it. They would just more to lose if the dead came. And If the crown found out, they would either take the dragons or have them killed. Jon didn't want to think of that after already losing so much.

At the top, Jon walked over to someone who was brooding more than he was. "You've been distant as of late, Grenn." Grenn didn't even turn his head to face Jon, he continued to stare over the Wall. He had kept his distance from the others ever since his return. He was troubled by something by didn't think to share what with anyone.

"Have Edd and Sam made any progress with you and your dragons?" Grenn asked.

"They're not my dragons, I never asked for them, I never wanted them." Just like he never asked or wanted Ghost when he and his brothers found the pups. But Jon learned to love his direwolf more than imagined. But as time went on, the litter began to die out. First Lady, then Greywind. Which one of the pups was to be next to die?

"That doesn't answer the question." Grenn turned his head to face Jon, his brow arched as if he knew the answer already.

Jon sighed at Grenn. "The white one is called Ygris and the blue one is called Lyarras." Jon looked out to the north. In the distance, he could see a snowstorm headed their way. Luckily it wasn't the one they all dreaded. "I received word from Eastwatch that some Essosi ships ferried a large group of men wanting to join the Watch."

Grenn's lips curved into a small smile. "How many?"

"About one hundred and fifty. Twelve of whom are prisoners who chose the black rather than the Queen of Mereen's justice... The rest came freely to take the black. I was also told that there were more coming, but one hundred and fifty is all that could be ferried at a time."

"Seems she came through," Grenn said.

"Who?"

Grenn's smile turned into a smirk. "A woman I met in Mereen."

"Queen Daenerys?"

Grenn nodded as he finally faced Jon.

"What was she like?"

"She's the most beautiful woman in the world. Her hair was like silver but also a little bit of gold. And her eyes, it was like something out of a storybook."

Jon had heard little about her, but so far she seemed far from what the Mad King was. "What about her dragons? Did you get a look at them too?"

Grenn shook his head and turned his gaze back beyond the Wall. "I only heard stories, but she has two of them chained beneath the Great Pyramid. Something about the big one burning a child. After that, it hasn't been seen."

That was another thing that worried Jon. He was lucky that Ghost was quite tame when he raised him. But dragons are different creatures. And from what Grenn just said, even a descendant of the people who rode them couldn't fully control her dragons. What would happen if Ygris and Lyarras burned a village or set fire to one of the castles when they grew enough? There were so many questions he had and no one to answer them.

But such things would have to wait when Jon noticed a familiar face approaching.

"Ser Davos, what are you doing here?"

The onion knight stood before the two brothers as presentable as possible. "I've come at the request of Stannis. Our camp was attacked and raided not long ago and our supplies are all but depleted. We need your help."

Jon looked at Grenn before looking back at Ser Davos. "Walk with me." Grenn and Ser Davos followed Jon over to the lift and they all boarded it. As it descended, Jon gave his reply to the King's request. "I'm sorry to hear about what happened, but with our food and rations stretched thin as it is, we can't afford any to spare. Had the Baratheon soldiers contributed to their stay here, we might have had some to give."

"You helped us capture Mance Rayder and defeat the Wildlings North of the Wall." Grenn stated, "Even then, Stannis only helped us so that he could use the Night's Watch as a shield from the war."

Ser Davos didn't falter from his position of discussion. "If you can send Stannis what he needs for one battle, it could turn the tide for the entire war. With Winterfell taken and the Boltons gone, Stannis will have the support of the North for defeating the family who murdered their King. He can repay what was given tenfold and has promised to give you just as many men."

"I'm sorry, Ser Davos, but that's too great a risk. We've barely the men to gather what we need and more are coming from Essos."

"Essos? Why would anyone from Essos come to the Night's Watch?"

"It was repayment for a delivered message." Grenn informed.

"Must've been some bloody good message." Ser Davos commented.

"The ships bring supplies as well, but we need them all." Jon said.

"Would it help change your mind if I told you your sister Sansa is in Winterfell?"

Jon's head turned to Ser Davos immediately. He wasn't sure if the man was so desperate that he was trying to play Jon or desperate that he had no other leverage. "What do you mean?"

"From what we heard, your sister was sold to the Boltons by someone and is now married to Roose's bastard Ramsay. We haven't heard much about him, but the things we have aren't good."

That changed things. Jon had once made the choice to stay with the watch instead of fight with his family and now that same question of who to fight for was thrust upon him. He thought back to what Lord Commander Mormont had asked him long ago.

'Are you a boy who wants to play at war or a man of the Night's Watch?'

His sister was in the hands of the man who murdered their brother and her mother. But she was home and away from King's Landing.

"I want to help Sansa, i do. But I can't. We just don't have the supplies." Jon confessed. He wanted to do something now that he knew that he was so close, but he couldn't go and forsake his vows. He wanted to do whatever the right thing to do was, but he wasn't sure what exactly that meant. To Take part in a King's War to fight for his family or to prepare for the war and fight for the world. But maybe he could do something. He just needed time to think what.

The lift was nearing the bottom. "What about men? Our forces are near broken, Stannis just refuses to accept that. We came to your aid. Stannis did and now he needs you."

Jon was becoming irritated by the persistence. We don't have enough men to make any difference."

"The Wildlings will make a difference!" Ser Davos's tone grew harsher with every word Jon spat back at him.

"The Wildlings will never fight for Stannis. I've told you him before- "

"You saved their bloody lives! If they're gonna live in the seven kingdoms, safe behind our wall, they ought to fight for the damn place!"

"It's not their fight!" The lift stopped and the three of them exited the lift.

"If I could," Grenn interjected, feeling if this continued any longer, swords would be drawn, "The Night's Watch did owe Stannis a debt when he came to our rescue, but that debt was repaid by the sharing of our resources to him. The Watch is sworn to take no part in the wars of men and we violated that vow when Stannis housed his army here."

Before anyone could continue, they all heard a commotion at the gates. They opened and the Priestess Melisandre rode through on a horse. Her face stricken with grief as they approached.

Jon hurried over, in need of knowing what happened. He did not like Stannis at all, but he hated the Boltons. "Stannis?" Jon asked.

Melisandre hardly looked at him, her gaze fixed on the ground beneath her, full of shame.

Before she could walk away, Ser Davos stopped her in her tracks. "Shireen, the princess?" All it took was one look from Melisandre to tell him what he begged was not true.

She walked away from them as Jon approached Ser Davos. He placed a hand on the knight's shoulder, thinking it would comfort him. "I'm sorry."

"She was just a girl," Ser Davos croaked. "She was just a girl and they killed her."

It was horrible to think that the Boltons would do such a thing and it made Jon worry for Sansa even more.

"Come on. You need a drink."

"No, but I want one."

Ser Davos followed Jon back to his office, but when they entered, he broke from his sadness and became utterly shocked when he saw two pairs of dragon eyes watching them enter.

"What in fuckin hells- where did you get dragons?" He was frozen in place.

"They were left to us as eggs by maester Aemon. But we hatched them without knowing we were." Jon told him as he retrieved some horns of ale. "Sam, could you go get us something to drink?"

Sam perked his head up. "What would you like?"

"Whatever's strongest." Edd helped Ser Davos walk into the room and closed the door behind him. "Don't tell Melissandre," Jon ordered. "I don't want here spouting any nonsense about the dragons being related to the Lord of Light or something like that."

"The way she looked, I don't think she would even care," Ser Davos said.

The sun was almost setting and the torches of Castle Black were being lit. Ser Davos and Melisandre were given their old rooms until they could decide where to go. Melisandre had been shutting herself in, not accepting any food or drink.

Sam and Gilly were settled in their wagon ready to leave for Oldtown. Jon, Edd, and Grenn each stood next to the seat on Sam's side.

"You know at the Citadel they'll make you swear off women, right?" Jon reminded Sam.

"They can bloody well try." Sam's words left his mouth without him even thinking. Next to him, Gilly turned a light shade of red at his comment.

"Sam," Jon said, undeniably proud of his brother.

"What?" Sam had an innocent yet cocky look about him. The look of a man who knew where to put it.

"SAM." Jon and Sam both laughed shortly before embracing their arms.

Edd stepped up as it was his turn to say farewell. "Next time we see you, you'll have one of those fancy chains. And if they read half as good as you, your chain better be unliftable." Edd embraced Sam's arm and then let Grenn take his turn.

"Well Sam, if you ever get tired of reading about White Walkers, try looking into dragons." Grenn shook hands with Sam and at the same time slipped a note to him. Sam eyed him curiously but said nothing.

The three of them watched as Sam whipped the reigns and departed from Castle Black. After Sam was gone, Jon spoke up to Grenn. "I know you just got back, but would you be willing to return to Essos for me?"

Grenn was shocked when he heard Jon's request. "What for?"

"I want you to take the dragons out of the North and give them to Daenerys Targaryen. She understands more about dragons than I ever will and they don't belong here."

Edd was equally surprised as Grenn was. "Jon, they need you. You can't abandon them."

"I have no idea what to do with them! Let's say I did raise them. Once they begin to fly and breathe fire, how do I stop them from burning a whole forest down? How do I stop them from attacking innocent lives?"

Edd and Grenn both looked at each other, realizing that there was truth to what Jon said. Grenn hadn't spent much time with the dragons as the others, but he felt an attachment to them.

"Alright." Jon looked at him, surprised at his quick response. "But I have one condition." Jon was puzzled. "When they're ready to come back, you have to be the one to get them. It doesn't matter what vows you took or what you keep telling yourself. They're your daughters, and you are their father."

Jon couldn't help but be angry with him. He never asked for them, but it seemed he had no choice. "Very well." Jon motioned to the other wagon that was used at Castle Black. Inside the back of it were two very large cages, built in case the dragons grow even more. "You'll leave in about two hours. Get your arms, gear, and get some rations from Hobb. I'll get Ygris and Lyarras into their cages." Grenn nodded and made his way to the barracks.

Edd walked with Jon to his solar. "Are you sure about this?"

Jon stopped walked and turned towards Edd. "No, but it's the best I can think of."

"I didn't want you to bring the Wildlings south, I knew it was the right thing to do, but I didn't want to accept it. I don't know much about dragons or even a small piece of what Sam knows, but I can't help feeling that this isn't going to end well."

Jon resumed walking to his solar. "When have things ever ended well?"

It took about an hour to get the dragons loaded into their cages. By the time Grenn was ready to leave, Jon found himself with the dragons rather than Grenn. Ygris and Lyarras both looked at him with their mystical eyes. In truth, he didn't want them to leave. His denial was just a façade to mask his fear. "I'm sorry. I truly am, but you're not safe in the North. If the White Walkers come… I couldn't bear to see you killed." The wagon wobbled as Grenn climbed on board. "This isn't goodbye, I will see you two again."

Jon left the dragons to their cages and approached Grenn. "Am I correct to assume that the only thing you're looking forward to is getting out of the cold?"

Grenn chuckled a bit when he heard that. "There is one more thing I'm looking forward to."

Jon smiled and pulled out a sealed scroll. "This is for Queen Daenerys, details of how and why she's receiving two more dragons. Be sure she gets it." Grenn nodded as he took the scroll and he said his farewell. Jon pulled a large covering over the cages as to hide them from prying eyes. Grenn whipped his reigns and left the gates of Castle Black and headed for Eastwatch.

The stars had already begun to appear and Jon still had much work to do as Lord Commander. He found himself back in his solar at his desk going through various raven scrolls. All of them replies to his requests for men to man the Wall, and all of them rejecting his requests. He had been awake for hours until he finally read his last scroll. "Seven hells…" he sank into his chair and thought about taking a break.

Without warning, Olly burst through his door. "Lord Commander! It's one of the Wildlings you brought back. Says he knows your uncle Benjen. Says he's still alive."

Jon's fatigue left him and he was at full attention. He shot up from his seat, his drowsiness completely gone. "Are you sure he's talking about Benjen?"

"Said he was First Ranger." Jon rushed from his desk and out his door. "Said he knows where to find him."

Jon made his way down some steps to be met by Ser Alliser in the training yard. "The man says he saw your uncle at Hardhome the last full moon." They both walked towards a gathering of brothers surround the Wildling.

"Could be lying."

"Could be, there are ways to find out." If Ser Alliser meant torture, Jon was at a point that he might actually do it to find his uncle.

"Where is he?"

"Over there." Jon pushed past his brothers only to see that there was no Wildling, but only a sign that read: TRAITOR. He turned around and without warning, was stabbed with a dagger in his chest by Ser Alliser. "For the watch." He pulled his blade out of Jon and stepped back.

Jon didn't have time to cough up blood when some of the men that gathered around him stabbed his body while muttering the same thing. "For the watch."

By the fifth stab, Jon was on his knees, his breathing was heavy and ragged. His body was growing cold and weak. The men parted and Olly stepped forward, holding a dagger. Jon looked at him with desperation in his eyes, pleading that he wouldn't do as the others have done. He could see that Olly was scared, but it was turning to anger. "Olly," Jon rasped.

Olly thrust his blade directly into Jon's heart and pierced it deep. He pulled it out and muttered the same words as the others. "For the watch." There was a look of satisfaction in Olly's eyes, like getting revenge.

Jon fell backward into the snow, the cold embracing him faster than the cold darkness.


	6. Grenn

Grenn

The ruins of the Long Barrow weren't as nearly as bad as Grenn had thought them to be when he first saw them. The stairways that led to the top had collapsed on most of the castle and compared to Greyguard, the Long Barrow was still able to give him a roof over his head. The only parts of the castle that were still intact were half of the commons and the kitchens. The rest was crushed by the stairs or ice that had fallen from the Wall.

Grenn had camped in the kitchens, they weren't much different from the ones in Castle Black. The room was large enough for him to bring the dragons in and let them move about without getting away. He sat back in a makeshift bed he made with his rucksack and a still intact table and ate his dinner provisions as he watched Ygris and Lyarras hopping from rubble to rubble. They were trying to fly, but all they could do was glide. Lyarras came close to flying. She managed to hove in the air before falling to the ground.

Grenn tore at a piece of cooked rabbit and tossed it at Ygris and Lyarras. The two of them fought over the meat, ripping it to pieces before there was none left. The two of them reminded Grenn of some dogs that were on the farm he used to live on. They looked nice but had a terrible bite when they got angry.

The dragons were bigger than cats now and it was incredible at how fast they grey. 'I wonder how big they'll be when we reach Mereen?' They'd probably be as big as Ghost.

Grenn began to think how the Dragon Queen would react when she would see them. Maybe amazed that there are two more, but maybe not since she's already got three of them.

He thought back on when he first saw them. He didn't know history very well but he knew that the only house that had dragons in the past were the Targaryens. It made him wonder how Jon could have been the one the dragons chose to go to. Maybe with Maester Aemon dead, they had to get the next best thing. Or maybe there was more to Jon than Jon himself knew. Everyone knew who his father was, but no one, not even Jon, knew his mother. Maybe she was long lost descendant of the Targaryens.

First light had come sooner than Grenn had hoped when he woke up. The dragons were still asleep which made it easier to load them back into their cages. They slept through being picked up and set back down. It was nice not to get nips at the fingers for once.

Grenn departed from the Long Barrow before sunrise. He took one last look at the castle as he was nearly a mile away. He wished the stairs had not collapsed, otherwise, he could have explored the so-called Frozen Lights in the Wall. The Long Barrow was the only castle to carve rooms inside the upper foundations of the Wall. It was rumored that on the night of a full moon, the ice would light up like the fabled lights in the Lands of Always Winter. It was one of the few wonders of the Wall besides the height. There was said to be magic in the foundations, but there was nothing that Grenn had ever seen except for ice and even more ice.

The day had been very warm, even with a light layer of snow that covered the hills all around. It made the road a mix of slush and mud, but it was worth it to feel to the sun's warm light. It was a change of feeling from the feelings of gloom that came from being so close to the Wall. The only things that seem to pass the time were the 'songs' the dragons seemed to make as they screeched. It was entrancing to hear. They weren't like the sounds other beasts made, it was like there was magic coming from them.

Grenn was no singer like Pyp was, but he managed to put together a small tune from what he heard.

"Though the winds of winter blow

They will never scare the crow

For when the king comes striking down

Our steel will break his crown

And then the skies will fill with light

Our brothers have won the fight"

Grenn was still working on the next verse, trying to think of something along the lines of what the red woman used to say before she returned to Castle Black. "For the night is dark and full of terrors. Errors? Curs? Hmm… what else rhymes with terrors? Cares? Leppers? Gah, no that won't do the song any justice, not by a long shot." He was stuck on this for the next few hours before giving up on it entirely. He tried thinking of something along the lines of glory or honor.

Grenn's thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang coming from behind him. He shot his head around and saw that Ygris had tried to break out of her cage by slamming into it. For small creatures, they had strength. "Oy, that's enough of that. Just a few more weeks and then you won't have to see those cages ever again." In a few weeks, the wouldn't even fit in the cages. But he threw the thoughts away when he realized he was talking to a dragon. Although he didn't feel embarrassed about it. Who else was there to talk to?

Dusk had come, and he still hadn't come up with anything for the next verse. 'Maybe I should put something in the middle of what I've already come up with.' He thought.

The air was getting colder as the sun got lower, and Grenn was too far from Greenguard to arrive before it became too cold to travel, but the Torches was only a few miles behind him. He turned the wagon around and within the hour he was back at The Torches. The castle was one of the few abandoned that was still intact and could be stationed at any time. The Night's Watch only lacked the men to do so, but if more kept coming from Essos as they did, then there might be more than just this castle manned once again.

The castle itself was similar to Castle Black, but only a single courtyard instead of two. Standing opposite to each other on the east and west side of the castle were two towers. The rose to nearly half the height of the Wall. Atop each tower was a great beacon the likes of which were not found anywhere else in the world. They were so powerful that the light they shown when lit could be seen all the way from Woodswatch-by-the-Pool to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. Though it must have been a thousand years or more since they've been lit. No one would probably understand it if they were.

As Grenn got closer to the castle, he was surprised by a screecher owl that flew in front of him and attacked his face. He swatted at it, trying to get it to leave him alone. It screeched as it continued to attack him, but Grenn finally slapped it away and it flew out of sight. 'What was with that damn bird?' The owl had left small cuts on his face, but nothing that would scar.

The dragons began to fuss in their cages. They must've heard the owl and wanted to chase after it. There was more banging against the cages now.

The gates to the castle were torn down, open to anyone and anything. Grenn had parked his wagon in the stables but left the horse strapped. He had a bad feeling about this place. He hopped off the wagon and drew his sword. His eyes scanned the castle, checking for any signs of movement, light, or occupancy. He climbed the stairs to the ramparts and checked each of the rooms as quietly as possible.

Everything within was stripped clean. As far as Grenn knew, the castle was abandoned about four hundred years ago. All came here snooping after that took everything but the damn castle itself. Even some of the floorboards were torn out. On the outside the castle was formidable but on the inside it was embarrassing. There was nothing here but empty rooms and stone walls.

When he was about to check the western tower, he was startled by the sound of the owl, screeching on the front gates. "Sevens hells!" Grenn had enough of this damn owl. He ran towards it, ready to kill that wretched creature. He'd never eaten owl before, but he was always welcome to try new foods.

Just before he got close, it flew away. He watched from the ramparts as it flew south to the hills. But his eyes found something else when he looked over. Grenn could see at least a dozen shapes moving towards the castle. From this distance, he could tell that they were men, but they weren't Wildlings nor Night's Watch. He also noticed that they were carrying weapons. Grenn sheathed his sword and ran as fast as he could to his wagon. He jumped on and whipped the reigns. Two of the men had just reached the gate when the wagon charged out of the Torches. One of the men was trampled by a horse and the wagon. His bones crunched as he was driven over. The rest approaching the castle moved out of the way and chased after him.

The dragons began to screech out and banged against their cages. If they were scared, they were right to be.

Before Grenn was even a hundred yards away from the Torches, an arrow struck his left shoulder from behind. He cried out as he fell off the wagon and into the snow. The shaft snapped and the arrowhead dug deeper into his muscle. Grenn got to his feet as fast he could and watched as the wagon kept riding east. Before he could even attempt to pursue it, three of the men had caught up to him. Now that they were closer, he could see who they were. Their clothes and gear varied from poor quality to castle forge steel. They were raiders and pillagers. Grenn drew his sword and faced a raider that swung a large axe at him. He ducked under it and impaled the man that swung it. The other two both attacked at the same time with swords. Grenn parried both and was able to strike his blade across the neck of one. For once, Grenn was glad of all the times Jon beat his arse to dirt because these men were terrible compared to him,

The last of the men who was facing off against Grenn was joined by the rest of his allies and they all surrounded him.

Before they could attack, Grenn managed to pick up the sword belonged to the raider he just killed, though with the pain in his shoulder, he might not be able to use it very well. One of the raiders approached Grenn. His face was scarred and filthy. If anything, he was the leader of this group. "Never seen a lone brother of the Night's Watch traveling between castles. They always stay in flocks." Some of the raiders laughed at his remark.

Grenn noticed the leader wore black underneath his cloak. His apparel was the kind he wore. "You're a sworn brother?"

"Not anymore," he snickered. "Now that the Boltons rule the North, it's easier to do what we please since they only care about putting their cocks in their flayed men." He looked at the men who lay dead. "Not bad. I didn't think you had the look of a fighter but you're good. How bout you come with us?"

"Fuck you." Grenn spat.

"Think about it. The Lord Commander let the Wildlings through the Wall. They say they'll live peacefully but it's just a lie. They'll kill every brother in Castle Black, the Shadow Tower, and Eastwatch before Winter sets in the rest of Westeros. We're gonna be the ones who live out those massacres. So what do you say?"

"Fuck. You."

The men laughed once again at his remarks. The leader gestured his head and the two men next to him both attacked with spears.

Grenn dodged them and slammed his foot down on one, breaking it while his right arm thrust his sword into the spear holder's chest. The other one brought the butt of his spear to Grenn's face, striking him at his temple.

Grenn nearly fell down, but he was able to catch himself before men behind him attacked. He parried an axe and kicked the chest of its wielder, but a sword sliced the skin of the leg he kicked with. Grenn stumbled forward, almost getting impaled by the sword that cut him, but he brought up his left arm and the tip of his sword entered the head of his attacker. He wasn't going to win this fight, but he could be sure to damn well bring most of them with him. He could feel his body strengthening from the fight. "Night gathers and now my watch begins" he started. He heard some of the raiders laugh at him for saying his vows. But he took no shame in the words. He was not some criminal in black, he was a man of the Night's Watch.

One of the charged with a small hatchet in one hand and a sword in the other. "And it shall not end," he parried both the sword and axe and brought his elbow to the nose of the raider "until my death!" The laughter died out as Grenn refused to back down. "I shall take no wife, hold no lands father no children!" This time three attacked him at once. He dodged a mace and cut off the arm that held it while parrying two swords and once. One of them stabbed Grenn in his side, but the attacker received a stab right between his legs. He cried out and dropped to his knees, hands clenching the parts his lost. He looked up at Grenn who swung a sword across his neck.

Grenn was slowed by his newest wound and could barely stand. "I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post!" As he continued to fight, he could only defend himself. His movements were too slow to strike. "I am the sword in the darkness! I am the watcher on the walls!" The leader finally approached Grenn to fight him himself. He wielded two short swords and immediately swung his blades at Grenn. "I am the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch," Grenn's left leg was impaled and he was slashed across his chest, but he didn't scream. From behind, a sword impaled him in his lower chest. He dropped his swords and fell over to the snow, his breaths short and desperate. He could feel himself becoming cold, not like anything he knew.

The leader stood above Grenn, now holding a large axe in his hands. Above him in the sky, he could see the owl that attacked him flying in the light of the moon. "For this night and all nights to come." His words were barely more than whispers.

Before the leader could raise his axe, an arrow founds its way into his head. As he fell to the ground, the yells of Wildlings could be heard charging towards them. The ground shook immensely before Grenn could barely see a giant charging with the Wildlings. It only took a moment for the Wildlings to slaughter the remaining raiders. When they finished, one of the Wildlings knelt down next to Grenn and turned him over to his back, lifting his head up.

The screecher owl that pecked at him was perched on the Wildling's shoulder. "I tried to warn you, crow. Sorry we didn't get here sooner."

A pair of wildings approached the others that surrounded Grenn's body, another one followed behind them, driving that wagon that nearly escaped. The Wildling with the owl stood up and approached them. "What's in it?"

Grenn moved his lips, but no sound came out. The Wilding brought his ear to Grenn's mouth, as to attempt to hear anything other than ragged breaths. "The wagon… Castle Black… keep safe…"

The Wilding that drove the wagon halted. "Cages, but there's nothing in them." He pointed his arm behind him to the cages.

One of the Wildlings inspected them and noticed the locking mechanisms were loose from the rivets. "There was something in them, but whatever it was escaped."

The Wildling with the owl sighed before looking back at Grenn's body. He returned to him and knelt down. "What was in them cages?"

Grenn couldn't answer. In fact, he couldn't even move. He couldn't feel anything in his body. He only heard what the Wildlings were saying. "We'll take em both to Castle Black.."

The giant that accompanied them carefully picked up Grenn's body and cradled him in one arm. They all began the journey to Castle Black.

Grenn's breathing stopped after that. The light of his eyes had faded away. He was gone.


	7. Davos I

Ser Davos

The defeat of Ser Alliser and the other traitors brought great relief to him. But, the feeling was outweighed by the distraught of the death of Jon Snow. He stood next to Jon's body as Edd returned with the red-haired Wildling named Tormund. He saw Jon on the table, his clothes still stained with his blood.

"Took a lot of knives." Tormund said quietly. "Are his dragons safe?"

"You heard about them?" Davos asked.

"I heard rumors, then this one told us more when he found us." Tormund pointed to Edd.

"Jon sent them with Grenn to be half the world away from here. Least, until their bigger."

"Good. We'll need their fire when the dead come." He turned back to Jon's bodies, taking one last look. "I'll have my men get the wood for a fire. Bodies to burn." He walked out of the room leaving Edd within the room with Davos.

Edd turned to leave the room. "You should get some rest."

Ser Davos shook his head "If everything you've all been saying about White Walkers and an Army of the Dead were true, then he was the last hope." Edd stopped, turning back to him. "His brothers and little sister are dead. Sansa's married to Roose's bastard. The last heir to one of the greatest houses of Westeros, gone. All because he did the right thing. Hard to rest after things like this happen."

Edd looked to the ground, ashamed. They still had the allegiance of the Wildlings, but without the North, at least, it wouldn't mean much against the numbers that were coming. "Then let's make sure what he died for doesn't fall apart."

The Cold Cells served their purpose well in the night. The ice and steel had not a shred of warmth anywhere. The cloaks of the traitors were confiscated as were their boots. Bowen Marsh and Othell Yarwyck had begun calling out for mercy after only a couple of hours, Their voices echoed throughout the castle but no one cared to listen. Olly hadn't muttered a single word, he only shivered alone in his little space. Never before has one so young had to be confined in the cells.

Ser Alliser was the only one who's pride was overpowering the cold. He shivered alone in the corner of his cell, but he scowled the entire time, not breaking. He was strong willed.

Davos joined Edd and Tormund to visit in the middle of the night. The mutineers were to be executed, that was absolute. But the others wanted to know why they did what they did when they know of the bigger problems north of the Wall.

"Have a nice night?" Edd asked as the light of his torch illuminated the cells.

"Please, let us out!" Bowen Marsh pleaded. "It's so cold!"

"You think mutiny and murder is punished with half a night in a cold cell?"

"He betrayed the oath!" Othell called out through his cell.

"Which part?" Davos asked openly. "You swore to be the shield that guards the realms of men. And north of the Wall is a realm where men lived."

Ser Alliser stood up from the corner and went to the bars of his cell. "The Wildlings have been reeving and raping the kingdoms for thousands of years. A man so far south of the Wall would never understand the atrocities these savages commit."

"If you saw what was out there," Edd intervened, "You wouldn't be saying that. While you were staying warm in Castle Black, I fought at the Fist with three hundred hardened men. How many of them are still alive?"

"I believe the dangers that are out there." Ser Alliser admitted. "But I will not believe the word of Wildlings to help us fight the White Walkers. As soon as the horn blasts three times, they'll tuck tail and run now that they have somewhere else to go." He retreated back into his corner, ignoring Tormunds words while he did. "You can kill us, but better a death by execution than a knife to the throat in your sleep."

"You think the Free Folk are like you southerners? We don't break our promises or murder our leaders unarmed." Tormund pressed his face to the cell bars, getting as close to Alliser as he could. "You best hope you die soon because I'm going to kill you if they don't."

"You're a liar!" Olly finally spoke. "You butchered my family and everyone I knew! Snow would never see the truth and gotten us all killed!"

Tormund turned his attention to the lad. "Aye, I killed your people before you became a crow and I killed many more after you did. And if Jon Snow hadn't offered peace for allegiance, I would keep killing all until this Wall was between me and my people."

There was silence among many of them. Edd didn't respond to that and neither did any of the prisoners.

Davos cleared his throat. "Tonight is the last night you'll ever see. Tomorrow, you'll be greeting death. How would you like it? Rollin heads or strangulation?"

"Hanging." Ser Alliser said immediately. I won't have my body desecrated before I burn."

The other prisoners agreed to a hanging as well.

"Very well. Have a pleasant night, gentlemen." Edd, Tormund and Davos made for the exit, but Ser Alliser spoke up one last time.

"At least Lord Snow was intelligible enough to send Aemon's dragon away. They don't belong to a traitor's bastard."

Davos returned to his quarters and fell onto his bed, gazing at the roof above him. He couldn't focus enough to fall asleep. There had been far too much happening. 'So that's it then. My time serving leaders is done. Guess I should be heading home. Though with what's coming, I think it won't be there for much longer.' His thoughts drifted to his wife and his dead son. Then he thought of the Princess Shireen. 'What was the point of it all? So someone could sit on a fucking chair of swords? How many died for five men's lust for power?' He then thought of Jon Snow. 'He never fought for power. He didn't even want to be elected Lord Commander, but he accepted the position anyway. So they could survive what's coming. He knew he would be hated for bringing the Wildlings south, probably knew he would get killed for it, yet he did it anyway. Because it was the right thing to do.' He couldn't help but laugh at that thought. 'That's the kind of man I could call king. And know he's dead. If there really are gods, they're cruel.'

Ser Davos had a sudden epiphany. The first time he was in Castle Black, he heard some men talking about a group called the Brotherhood without Banners. The followed the Red God and were led by a man rumored to have died many times, but a red priest brought him back each time. Stannis got up from his bed and immediately left his room. He found himself at the door to Melisandre's solar. 'I always told Stannis not to listen to her. And yet here I am, about to put my faith in her.'

Ser Davos knocked on the door and heard a soft voice speak. "Come in." He entered slowly and saw Melisandre sitting by the fire, staring into it.

"Sorry my lady, didn't mean to interrupt."

"You interrupt nothing." He noticed that she was wrapped in a fur. She'd never needed furs before, she said she always had the lord's fire in her.

"I assume you know why I am here?" She always had an arrogant divination about such things and usually, they were right.

"I will after you tell me." All the faith she once had was gone from her. There was nothing left but a woman betrayed by her god.

"It's about the Lord Commander."

"The former Lord Commander." Melisandre corrected.

"Does he have to be?"

Melisandre looked up at him from the flames. She didn't show it, but he could tell that she was miserable inside. "What are you asking?"

He hesitated a moment before responding. "Did you hear of the rumors? About the dragons that hatched?

"I did. Jon Snow hid them from me and was right to. I might have tried to convince Stannis they were meant for him if he were victorious. God or no god, I wish I could have seen them born."

"From what I was told, the eggs were petrified into stone, And yet they hatched anyway. If that's not magic then what was it?"

"What do you want, Ser?"

"Do you know of any… magic that could help him? Bring him back?"

Her eyes went back to staring into the flames. "If you want to help him, leave him be."

No, Stannis wasn't going to let her give up so easily, especially after her years of persistence that did not yield to anyone. "Can it be done?"

She sighed out and shook her head at the flames. "There are some with this power."

"How?"

"I don't know."

"Have you seen it done?"

"I met a man who came back from the dead, but the priest who did it… it shouldn't have been possible."

So it was true after all. "But it was, it could be now."

"Not for me." She stood from her chair and walked away from him.

"Not for you? I saw you drink poison that should've killed you. I saw you give birth to a demon. And now dragons have hatched from stone. It seems to me that all the magic is where you tend to be."

"Everything I believed, the great victory I saw in the flames. All of it was a lie." Her voice was starting to break as she continued on. "You were right all along. The lord never spoke to me."

"Fuck him then, fuck all of them. I'm not a devout man, obviously. Seven gods, drowned gods, tree gods, dragons, it's all the same." He walked right up next to her, as if to make sure she heard his next words. "I'm not asking the Lord of Light for help. I'm asking as a man who has seen dragons and heard them sing to the woman who showed me that miracles and magic exist."

She looked at him, still in denial of herself. "I've never had this gift."

"Have you ever tried?"

She looked away, pondering that maybe she could. How could she know if she never tried to before? "Bring me to him."

Ser Davos was joined by Edd and Tormund. They assisted Melisandre in stripping Jon to nothing except for a cloth over his nethers.

Jon's direwolf, Ghost was laying near the table his master's body rested on. He didn't make a single movement or watch Melisandre perform.

Davos watched her clean the blood from Jon's naked body. All the while she did, Melisandre was muttering a prayer in High Valyrian. "Zyhys oñoso jehikagon Aeksiot epi, se gis hen syndrorro jemagon." It was like watching her perform a funeral rite and at the same time a baptism.

They watched as she trimmed hair from his head and tossed it into flames. She then poured water through his hair and let it drip into a basin. "Zyhys perzys stepagon Aeksio Oño jorepi, se morghultas lys qelitsos sikagon."

They watched as she placed her hands on his body and uttered some words in Valyrian over and over. "Hen syndrorro, oños. Hen ñuqir, perzys. Hen morghot, glaeson." They watched has Jon remained motionless as she tried. "Hen syndrorro, oños. Hen ñuqir, perzys. Hen morghot, glaeson… please."

But there was nothing. Jon did open his eyes, his body did not move, the flame burned as they had. It had failed. Melisandre looked to Davos, for an answer or giving one that she tried.

Tormund had seen enough and left as he had seen Jon remained as he was. Melisandre and Edd followed him out, but Ser Davos gave one last look at Jon before leaving himself. He closed the door behind him and stood there. 'There really is no hope left without him.'

Before he could even take a single step forward, his body had frozen and something greater than a shiver ran down his spine when he heard someone gasping for air in the room he just left. But he was the last one to leave, so the one gasping had to be... He opened the door and walked back inside, watching as Jon's body began to rise.


	8. Jon III

Jon

The cold air stung Jon's lungs as he sat up from the table he was on. 'Where am I? How did I get here?' Jon could hear someone's raspy breaths in the room he was in. He looked over and saw Davos and Ghost. His direwolf was whimpering and looking as if he was afraid of him. But why?

Jon's gaze fell upon his body and he saw the stab wounds from the knives of the men who betrayed him. He lightly touched one of them and the instant when he felt the gash he quickly pulled away. 'They're real. They killed me!' Jon looked back at Davos and tried to get off the table, but his legs were weak and he collapsed.

Davos removed his cloak and quickly caught Jon before he hit the ground. "Easy, easy." He wrapped Jon in the cloak and helped him sit up on a stool as Melisandre entered the room, looking as shocked as he was. "What do you remember?"

Jon couldn't answer. He was still realizing that he just came back from the dead. His thoughts traced back the blade that stabbed him and it's wielder, Ser Alliser. "They stabbed me" he breathed out as he remembered the final blade that killed him. "Olly… he put a knife in my heart." He remembered the pain he felt within himself when Olly thrusted the steel into his chest. Right now he felt wrong, he couldn't describe how, but he knew he was. "I shouldn't be here."

"The lady brought you back." Davos told him.

Jon's gazed turned to Melisandre as she knelt down in front of him. "Afterwards, after they stabbed you, after you died, where did you go? What did you see?"

Jon tried to think of what did happen, but all he could remember was the nothingness felt right before waking up. "Nothing… there was nothing at all."

"I don't know if the lord gave you your dragon or if they were a gift from the maester, but this is the because of the Lord of Light's power. He let you come back for a reason" she told him. "Stannis was not the prince who was promised, but someone has to be." Jon was still trying to come to terms with coming back alive. Prophecy and Kings had no importance to him now.

"Could you give us a moment?" Davos asked. Melisandre obliged and left the room, Davos closing the door behind her. He pulled up a chair in front of Jon and sat down. "Dragons were born here. That is impossible to believe. And then you were dead, and now you're not. That's completely, fucking mad, seems to me. I can't imagine how it seems to you."

Davos was completely right. Nobody could understand the knowledge of what it's like to die. "I did what I thought was right, and I got murder for it. Now I'm back. Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe we'll never know. What does it matter? You go on, you fight as much as you can and you clean up as much of their shit as you can."

"I thought I knew how to do that. I thought I did but… I failed."

"Good, now go fail again." It wasn't the most encouraging of words, but it was enough to knock some sense into Jon. Davos helped him dress into some fresh clothes and walked with him out to the balcony. Ghost followed next to Jon, being as faithful a companion as he always was.

Jon could see all the men present gathering around in the courtyard, looking at him with disbelief, marvel, and even fear, just as they did when the dragons were born and crawled onto him. He slowly walked down the steps into the training yard and watched as men moved out of his way.

He found himself approached by Tormund, who had all the emotions they had. "They think you're some kind of god. The Man Who Returned From the Dead."

"I'm not a god." Jon immediately shot back at Tormund. The last thing he wanted were people starting to worship him.

"I know that that" Tormund said, wide-eyed, as he got close him. "I saw your pecker. What kind of God would have a pecker that small?"

Jon smiled knowing that Tormund would still make a joke out of this. He was embraced by Tormund tightly and released after his friend heard him grunt from the pain of the stabs.

Jon's gaze found Edd and he immediately walked over, meeting him with a hug. "Well your eyes are still brown." Edd commented. "Is that still you in there?"

"I think so." To be honest, Jon wasn't sure. Is anybody the same person they were after they die and come back to life? He would have to wait and see if he was. "Hold off on burning my body for now."

Edd chuckled at that. "That's funny." He suddenly looked concerned. "Sure that's still you in there?"

Jon laughed with him, glad he didn't change even though he might have.

Before they could continue, a brother above the gates called out to everyone. "Open the gates!" Everyone's attention turned to the gates when they opened. A group of Free Folk entered Castle Black.

They were followed by a horse pulling a wagon, and a giant. Jon recognized the giant. It was Mag the Mighty. He was injured during the assault on the gate and forced to retreat when he failed to lift the gate open in time. He carried something in his right arm.

Jon recognized the wagon and approached the Wildling that led them. The man had an owl perched on his shoulder. "Lord Snow," he said. He looked around and his expression changed. "Why's everyone lookin like they've never seen a giant before?"

Jon looked over at the wagon and saw the cages in the back and that they were empty. "Where did you…"

The Wildling looked up at Mag. The giant approached Jon and lowered his body, revealing what he carried. Jon looked and saw Grenn's body, void of any life. "What happened?"

"I tried to warn him, but I'm afraid my owl can only screech." The Wilding told him.

"You're a warg?"

"Aye, name's Cullug. We came through the Wall at Eastwatch, on our way to join the other Free Folk. I was scouting ahead when I noticed a group of raiders near the Torches. They were waiting to see if your brother crow would enter the castle. I did what I could to keep in from going, but what can you do as an owl?"

"So they trapped him in the Torches?"

"No, I finally managed to get him to see from the ramparts. He was able to get out of the castle, but an arrow knocked him off his wagon. They surrounded him, but he didn't die easy. Killed five of them himself before they brought him down. Six if you include one he ran over with the wagon."

Jon looked over at Grenn one last time, proud that he was as stubborn to die as he was to train. "You have my thanks, but I'm afraid the Night's Watch doesn't have much to offer you."

Cullug slapped Jon on the shoulder. "You saved us from what lies beyond the Wall, there's nothing else we could ask of you."

Jon spirits were lifted when he heard that. But they dropped when he saw the cages in the wagon were empty. He walked over to them, worried the worst had happened.

"What was in them?" Cullug asked.

"You didn't see?" Jon asked, desperation clear in his voice.

"We stopped the wagon when it went on its own, but whatever was in those cages broke free and got away. I searched for a while with my owl, but I couldn't see nothin in the hills."

"Did you look in the skies?"

Cullog was puzzled. "You were transporting birds?"

"No, something far more dangerous." Jon walked back to Edd. "I guess Grenn will be the one burn today."

Edd shook his head, upset that their friend died. "He's one of the best of us to die fightin. I think it dishonorable he has a share a pyre with mutineers."

That reminded Jon, he hadn't seen the officers since he awoke. "Where's Thorne, and the others who had a turn at me?"

"In the Cold Cells."

"Good. Let's go pay them a visit."

Edd cracked a small smirk. "Can't wait to see their faces when he sees you."

Jon chuckled, but he wasn't amused. There were a thousand questions running through his head. He came back to life, but what does that mean for him? When Edd right to question if he was who he used to be? Was what happened truly death?

They were joined by Ser Davos, and Tormund when they went down into the Cold Cells. Jon stayed in the back and out of sight when they arrived.

"Is it time already?" Thorne asked.

Jon stepped into view of all of them and watched as all them were petrified at his living presence.

"T-this…" Bowen Marsh stuttered, "this isn't real. It can't be."

"No, you were dead, for days!" Othell Yarwick exclaimed.

"It's not fair, it's not fair!" Olly screamed.

Ser Alliser hadn't the words. For the first time, Jon witnessed the look of terror upon Ser Alliser Thorne.

Jon wanted to shout at them. He wanted to beat them all bloody. He wanted to keep them in the cells until their skin turned to ice. Instead of any of that, he didn't say anything. He just left.

The pyre meant for Jon was used for Grenn and those who died fighting for Ser Alliser instead. Their bodies were burned before the execution for the mutineers would take place. The flames of the pyre rose higher and burned brighter that morning than they had ever before.

Jon was inside his room after the burning, looking upon his tunic that had that marks of the knives that killed him. There was a knock on his door before it opened.

Edd walked into the room. "It's time."

Jon couldn't wait for those words to be said, but at the same time wished they could be delayed. He stood up and set his ruined leather tunic on the table next to him and retrieved Longclaw. Sometimes, he hated the philosophy his father taught him and his brothers. He had to pass the sentence and he had to swing the sword.

He followed Edd outside to the courtyard, making his way through Free Folk and his Brothers of the Watch. Jon came face to face with the traitors, all lined up standing on barrels with nooses around their necks.

"If you have any last words, now is the time." Jon declared as he faced each one of them.

"You shouldn't be alive." Bowen Marsh said, still terrified of Jon. "It's not right!"

Jon looked straight into his eyes. "Neither was killing me." He walked over to Othell Yarwyck to hear his words.

"My mother is still livin in the White Harbor. Could you write to her? Tell her I died fighting the Wildlings."

Jon said nothing. He wouldn't lie for a traitor, but he would not dishonor a man who served more years than he and faithfully until now. He would only say that he died.

Jon was now facing the only person he wished to die a long time ago. Now he would get to see it happen, but it didn't feel satisfying.

"I had a choice, Lord Commander," Ser Alliser started, "betray you or betray the Night's Watch. Those dragons might have chosen you, but you brought an army of Wildlings into our lands. An army of murderers and raiders. They chose wrong. If had to do it all over, knowing where I'd end up, I'd pray I'd make the right choice again only sooner."

"I'm sure you would Ser Alliser." Jon wanted to say many things to this man, but he would not dishonor himself in front of everyone. He would fall to be like the men about to die.

"I fought. I lost. Now I rest. But you, Lord Snow, you'll be fightin their battles forever." Ser Alliser held his head up as if to be proud of being hanged. But Jon could see through him. As a man of a family bested by the Starks in years past, it angered him greatly that a man with the blood of House Stark would be the one to end his time in the world.

Jon was facing the last one, Olly. He didn't say anything him. Olly only gave Jon a look of anger and disgust. Jon walked away from them all and drew Longclaw from its scabbard. He held it next to the rope that kept the traitors from hanging. He hesitated, he was tired of all the death. 'The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.' Those words his father said that day he executed the deserter had stuck to him ever since. Jon finally swung his blade down and cut the rope. The next thing he heard was the snaps of ropes and gagging of men. He waited until the noises stop before turning around and seeing them all pale faced and dead.

Jon sheathed Longclaw and stood next to Edd. "We should burn the bodies and look for the dragons."

"You should burn them. I'll find the dragons." Jon removed his black cloak and handed it to Edd who took it, looking confused.

"What do you want me to do with this?"

"Wear it. Burn it. Whatever you want. You have Castle Black." Edd's face turned from confused to concerned as Jon walked away from the hanged men. "My watch has ended."


	9. Sansa I

Sansa

Castle Black had not been what Sansa had expected. She expected something resembling Winterfell, but what she saw was a poor excuse for a fort that looked like it could barely house two hundred men. The place almost looked insulting to the grandeur if the Wall.

"Halt!" A scrawny man in black called out from the portcullis of the castle. "Who goes there?" He had a bow an arrow at the ready as if expecting trouble. It was confusing given that he was threatened by a warrior woman, her squire, and a lady.

Brienne shouted back at him. "My name is Brienne of Tarth! I demand an audience with Lord Commander Jon Snow and request that you open the gates to us! We are in great need of food and rest."

"What business do you have Lord Snow?" He asked as another man joined him, but this one was not in Night's Watch garb, he was covered in furs. He was a wildling.

Before Brienne could respond, Sansa became tired of this and revealed her business. "He's my brother! I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell!"

The man above the gate looked at her wide-eyed for a moment before bringing a horn to his lips and blew into it. "Open the gates!"

The gates open for them and they guided their horses forward. The inside of the castle looked worse than the outside. There were signs of repair and maintenance, but it must not have been properly tended to for decades.

But the thing that got their attention the most was a giant. It was covered in furs and giant bones for clothes and almost looked more like an animal than a large person. It eyed them and bared his teeth a little. "Lokh kif rukh?" His voice felt it could shake the ground.

"Kur fekh rin dahg!" a wildling shouted up to the giant before turning his attention to Sansa, Brienne, and Podrick. "It's not good to stare at giants. They's shy folk. And when they's not shy, they's angry. Pound ya right into the ground like a nail."

Sansa dismounted her horse and looked around at the men inside. She noticed that the majority of them weren't dressed in black, but they were in furs. 'Wildlings, what are so many Wildlings doing here? And why aren't they attacking us?' She noticed a mass of white fur and red eyes among the men and realized that she was looking at a direwolf. It was relieving to her to see Ghost was still alive among his litter. Grey Wind and Lady met fates they didn't deserve.

Ghost was larger than she imagined any of the direwolves to get. He trotted over to and lifted head up to her.

"Hello, Ghost." She stroked the fur of his head but he kept looking at her silently. He definitely deserved his name.

Sansa turned around and looked up at some men watching down from a balcony. For a brief moment thought she was looking at her father, but it was actually Jon, dressed in northern leather armor. He was so different since she last saw him. He looked more of a warrior than the bastard son of a highborn lord. He walked down some steps and slowly approached her. There he was, right in front of her. He was the only family she had seen for years, and probably the only one left alive. She didn't see him as her father's bastard anymore, but her brother. She tightly embraced him tightly and he her, finally accepting that for the first time in a long time she was truly with someone who she wanted to be with.

She loosened her grip on him and looked at him once again, happy and also still confused that he wasn't in black like the men of the Night's Watch. 'Is this really you?'

"We have a lot to talk about." His voice was different as well. It was deeper and stronger with the Northern accent.

"We do."

Jon turned to Brienne and Podrick. "Who are they?"

Brienne stepped forward. "My name is Brienne of Tarth. I was sworn to Lady Catelyn Tully before her death. I am now sworn to protect Lady Sansa with my life."

"And my name is Podrick, my lord, Podrick Payne. I'm her squire."

"They saved me from the Boltons." Sansa told Jon.

Jon nodded and offered his hand to Brienne who accepted it. "Thank you for protecting her. You all must be hungry." He turned to one of the men wearing black. "See to it that they're fed."

"Yes, lord commander."

"I'm not the Lord Comman-" The man was already gone before Jon could finish. He sighed out in agitation.

"What do you mean?" Sansa asked. I was told that you were the Lord Commander."

Jon looked at her nervously. "Let's get you inside. We have a lot to talk about." He led her into his solar and sat her down next to his roaring hearth. Ghost followed them in and laid down next to them. "I'm pretty sure you have as many questions as me. Want to take turns?"

Sansa nodded with half a smile. "Why are there wildlings here?"

Jon turned into his brooding self as he pulled a chair next to her and sat down next to her. "I let them through the Wall to save them from something worse in the north." he paused, trying to think what to say. "Until you entered the gates, did you think giants were just a story?"

"Not anymore." Sansa admitted. "I remembered Uncle Benjen telling stories about them once, but I didn't believe him."

"Right, neither did I. We thought the things from stories were just that. But we've seen they're not. And it's not just giants. The White Walkers are real too."

Before today, Sansa might have laughed at that. It was such a silly thing to say was real, but so were giants but there was one in the courtyard of the castle. "Are you sure?"

"I've seen them. I've seen one take a baby boy in the night. I've seen steel shatter against the touch of their icy skin. I've seen them kill a hundred thousand wildings and watched as their bodies rose up from the ground as part of their army. That's why I let them through." He stared into the flames of the fire. "But to some, that wasn't a good enough reason why." He looked back at her. "My turn. Last I heard you were wed to Roose Bolton's bastard. Remmy? Ronnsey?"

"Ramsay, and I wasn't wed, I was sold by Petyr Baelish."

"Petyr Baelish? Isn't that the name of the man who Uncle Brandon dueled for Lady Catelyn?"

"Yes, him. He gave me to the Bolton's. Every day I spent in Winterfell with them was worse than any hell there is." The only positive about it was being away from Cersei. She would be dead if she was still in King's Landing.

"How'd you escape?" He asked.

Sansa didn't answer immediately, afraid of Jon's reaction. "Theon helped me."

"What?" Jon's tone was angry, very angry. "The man who betrayed Robb and killed two innocent boys helped you escape?"

"He didn't kill Bran and Rickon. He told me he couldn't track them so he killed two farm boys and burned the bodies so no one could tell it wasn't them."

Jon sat in silence for a brief moment, looking relieved and hopeful. "You say that as if it excuses Theon for what he did."

"It doesn't. Believe me, I don't forgive him for what he's done, but I also don't hate him anymore. I feel sorry for him."

"You feel sorry for him." Jon sounded as if couldn't believe her.

"The man we knew as Theon Greyjoy died a long time ago when Ramsay captured him. He kept calling himself Reek until he saved me from an arrow aimed right at me. Whoever Theon was, it's not who is now."

"I'm never going to forgive him," Jon hissed.

"He didn't expect you to. He doesn't want you to."

"I know that he didn't kill them. One of my brothers met Bran two years ago. He went north of the Wall. I don't know if he's still alive and rickon wasn't with him. I don't know where they are." There was a knock on the door. "Come in." Jon called out.

Podrick with a bowl of soup and some ale. "Pardon, but I brought some food." He delivered the soup to Sansa and the ale to Jon and then left them alone.

Sansa was hungry, but wanted to know more first. "Ramsay told me were elected the Lord commander of the Night's Watch, yet you're not in black."

Jon took a deep drink of his ale first. "I fulfilled my vows and was released from the Watch."

Sansa never knew the vows could be fulfilled. "I thought the vows were for life."

He looked at her, the expression he had looked unsure. "It's complicated."

"Then uncomplicate it."

Jon sighed out before standing up and undoing the straps of his armor.

"What are doing?"

He paused. "Do you truly believe me about the White Walkers and their army of dead soldiers."

"As much as I don't want to, I do."

"And I'd never tell a lie, you know that right?"

"I do."

He hesitated to speak. The words were there, but he wasn't saying them. "When I let the Wildlings through to save them from dead, some of the men didn't like my decision, so… they killed me."

Sansa heard him but had to hear it again. "What?"

"This is something you won't believe unless you see and once you do, don't ask me to show you again. The scars still haunt me." He did the last strap and pulled it off, over his shoulders and set it aside. He lifted his shirt up just enough to reveal several scars along his body. "I was stabbed by my brothers and left to die in the snow."

Sansa gasped when she saw them, almost dropping her bowl. She hadn't seen many scars of battle, but these looked deep, so deep they would kill. She heard him right, she just couldn't believe him. "But-if-" her words fumbled in her mouth. She understood why he didn't want her to see them again. The wounds were more unbelievable than White Walkers.

Jon dropped his shirt down and hid the scars. "I was brought back by a Red Priestess. A part of me wishes she hadn't. I remember dying. That shouldn't be something anyone has to remember. I don't feel the same as I was." He slipped his armor back on and took another drink of ale.

Sansa couldn't fully understand what he meant by feeling the same, and she didn't want to. "What was it like?"

Jon gazed into the fire in front of them. His brooding was getting more constant. "I can't describe it. It was that feeling you have right before you realize your dreaming and wake up, only you don't dream. You feel trapped."

Sansa remained quiet. She could see how much he changed, but he felt the same as he had always been back at Winterfell. Still brooding as always. It made her smile. "You're here now, and you're still my brother."

Jon looked at her, smiling. She could see the joy he felt when she said that. His eyes fell to the floor and his smile died. "There's something else you should know, but you can't tell anyone outside of Castle Black. One last thing that will sound impossible."

"What is it?" Sansa was curious as to what else could have happened to Jon during his time at Castle Black. Everything so far was just dread and morbid.

"After I let the Free Folk through the Wall, we had a funeral for our Maester. His name was Aemon Targaryen."

"Aemon Targaryen, the uncle of the Mad King?"

"Trust me, he was the exact opposite of mad. He was one of the few good men in the Watch. He wasn't a secretive sort of person, but he had two he kept for years until his death. Two dragons eggs."

Sansa's eyes widened. "Dragon eggs?"

"Aye, kept them hidden away here."

Sansa was not expecting that. "Can I see them?"

Jon shook his head, but he had a smirk about his face. "He had us place them on his funeral pyre before we ignited it. When it was reduced to ash, I found two baby dragons in what remained."

Sansa playfully scoffed at him, but upon looking at him eye to eye, she could tell that he wasn't joking. Seeing giants and scars of death and learning that White Walkers were real was almost overwhelming, but dragons born from ash was taking too unbelievable. "You have got to joking."

"I wish I was, but I'm not. Ask any man of the Watch here, they'll tell you the same thing. I'd show them to you, but they're gone now." His voice sounded distressed.

Considering everything going on and everything she was learning, she couldn't _not_  believe him. "Did they die?"

Jon shook his head "I wasn't in the best position to keep them here, so I tried to have them sent to the Targaryen Queen in Essos. But, the man I sent was attack and the dragons escaped. Now… I have no idea where they could be. Just like our brothers, and Arya."

Sansa was very amazed at him and was he's faced at the Wall. There was more magic happening here in the North than in the whole world. "I've heard about her when I was in King's Landing. People kept saying she has dragons, only a few believe that. I heard that Tywin Lannister believed it which meant it had to be true. That man wouldn't believe in rumors unless they were absolutely true."

Sansa finally felt her hunger get the better of her. She lifted her bowl to her lips and drank its contents. It was nice and warm. "It's good soup." She felt the need to change the subject before things become weirder than they already did. "Do you remember those kidney pies old nan used to make?"

"With the peas and onions." The memory brought smiles to their faces, but not for very long. "We never should've left Winterfell."

The day they left home, everything in their lives began down the path of catastrophe. "Don't you wish we could go back to the day we left? I want to scream at myself don't go you idiot!"

"How could know what would have happen? Before I took my vows I started to suspect unbelievable things were beyond the Wall, but I never imagined White Walkers and dragons."

"I saw what Joffrey really was on the road. I didn't let myself accept it and Lady died because of it. I'm glad that Ghost is still with you." Ghost's head perked up at the mention of his name. Sansa gave him a little scratch behind the ears. "I spent a lot of time thinking about what an ass I was to you. I wish I could change everything."

"We were children." He assured her.

"I was awful just admit it."

Jon snickered at her. "You were occasionally awful. I'm sure I can't have been grateful when I was sulking in the corner while the rest of you played."

"Can you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive."

"Forgive me!" She playfully demanded.

"Alright I forgive you." Just hearing that made her glad. She didn't need to ask it, but it made her feel better about it. She reached out her arm for the horn ale Jon had. He gladly gave it to her and watched her take a drink. The moment it entered her mouth, she regretted it. The ale was bitter and sour and caused her to choke on it. This made Jon laugh. She like hearing him be like this.

"We can fight the dead, birth dragons, but you'd think after thousands of years the Night's Watch would've learn to make a good ale."

She handed the horn back to him. She only now remembered that he was no longer sworn to the Night's Watch and he had no place at the castle any longer. "Where will you go?"

He looked at her, surprised. "I'm going to look for my dragons. And where I'm going, you're coming with me. If I don't watch over you, father's ghost will come back and murder me."

"Where will we go?" She corrected.

"The dragons were going to Eastwatch before they escaped capture. But I think we should look west. I can't explain it but I think they're somewhere in the mountains."

"And while the Bolton's rule do you think they'll let us look without any bother? There's only one place we can go, home."

Jon snorted at the idea. "What, should we just tell them to pack up and leave?"

"We'll take it back from them."

"I have a direwolf, I don't have an army."

"How many Wildlings did you save?" There had to be more than what was at the castle.

"They didn't come here to serve me-"

She stood up from her chair and place her bowl on a table behind them. "They owe you their lives! You think they'll be safe here if Roose Bolton remains Warden of the North? Do you think your dragons will?"

"Sansa-"

"Winterfell is our home. It's ours, and Arya's, and Bran's, and Rickon's, wherever they are. It belongs to our family and we have to fight for it."

"I'm tired of fighting!" Jon stood up and faced her. "It's all I've done since I left home. I've killed Brothers of the Night's Watch, I've killed Wildlings, I've killed men I admire, I hanged a boy younger than Bran! I fought and I lost. I'm tired of leading men to their deaths."

Sansa never expected him to be like this. Most boys dream of fighting as soldiers in wars, slaying their enemies. But here is a man who understood the truth about war. There's never glory in it, only death. "If we don't take back the North, we'll never be safe. I want you to help me, but I'll do it myself if a have to."

There was a moment of silence before Jon broke it. "Wherever you go, I'll follow."


	10. Jon IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay has sent his terms to Jon and Sansa and now they prepare to go to war for their brother and their home. With the Support of the Free Folk, their concerns are now uniting the rest of the North. I have changed up some of the numbers as far as how many are fighting.

Jon

The months that passed were spent searching for those who would still hold true to their oaths to House Stark. The Umbers and Karstarks had sworn themselves to the Boltons and both were great in military strength. Rest of the North had yet to declare sides. Many of them would not join the Bolton, but neither would they support the growing Stark army solely because they would not fight beside Wildlings. For being considered honorable people by Eddard Stark, the lords of the North were very prideful. The Houses that did join for the revolt against the Boltons had lost most of their men at the Red Wedding. The didn't have much, but they had loyalty.

There were also more of the Free Folk coming through the Wall. They had been spared being at Hardhome but had no other choice but to come south once they heard of the settlement's fate. Upon hearing about the fight against the Bolton and why, they sent the men they could to help.

Their encampment was located where Stannis had been before he marched on Winterfell. Ser Davos was wise to choose this place but much of it felt haunting. There were many remains of the Baratheon army that were left behind because of the Bolton raid.

But time was running out. Another storm could hit them like it did Stannis and ruin any chance to march on Winterfell. They had to act soon and strike as hard as they can.

Together with Ser Davos and Sansa, Jon strode through the encampment, going over the military strength they had so far. To Jon, things were not looking very well. Their numbers were adding up, but their strength wasn't building enough.

"What are our current forces?" Jon asked. Ghost was silently following behind him.

Davos went over the numbers he knew of. "Three thousand Wildlings, two hundred Hornwoods, one hundred forty-three Mazins."

Sansa went over her numbers "sixty-two Mormonts, three hundred survivors of the Red Wedding, and four giants." It was clear that both of them were not pleased.

"It's not what he hoped for, but it's a better chance we might've had if we're careful and smart. We may not have the biggest of armies, but we have some things the Boltons don't. " Davos noticed some of the Northmen starting a ruckus with some of the Wildings. "Oh for fuck's sake!" He left to go knock some sense into some heads, leaving Jon and Ghost with Sansa.

"So he's your most trusted advisor now? Because he secured sixty-two men from a ten-year-old?" Sansa asked.

Jon didn't know where this was coming from. He wasn't listening to her more than he was him. "Ser Davos is the one who convinced Melisandre to bring me back, he's the reason I'm standing here talking to you and he served Stannis for years."

"Stannis, who lost the blackwater, who killed his own brother, who lost his head. The army we have is strong but we still don't have enough, we need more men."

"There's no time."

"If we went down to Castle Cerwyn, I know that Lord Cerwyn would-"

"We sent ravens to dozens of other houses! The men here are the ones who didn't ignore us! We fight with the army we have! Every day Rickon has been imprisoned by Ramsay, I have had to worry if he's still in one piece or turned into another Theon. Every day, I'm reminded that the Bolton's control the North and my dragons are out there somewhere. If Ramsay found them…" He didn't want to imagine what that monster of a man would do to them. "I'd rather let the White Walkers kill them when they come. We fight with the men we have." Jon noticed the ruckus had turned into a brawl and Davos couldn't get control. He left Sansa to go assist him.

Jon approached the group of men, angry and irritated. "Enough!" The men stopped fighting when they saw Jon standing before them. "What in seven hells is the matter with you lot?" They remained silent as if awaiting a grand speech, but Jon wanted an explanation first. "Well?"

The Wildling who started the fight spoke up. "This southerner called me a murdering pig when I've never even been south of the Wall before in my whole life!"

The soldier who fought him shot back, "my brother was butchered by you shits in a raid two years ago, you're all nothing but savages and murders!"

"That's enough!" Jon shouted at them. "I've served for five years as a brother of the Night's Watch. I've killed scores of Wildlings and seen them kill just many of the men I've fought with. They have killed thousands of us and we returned by killing just as many of them over the past eight thousand years." He had not only the attention of the men who were brawling but the men all around him. "I brought twelve thousand of them from beyond the Wall, and I watched as over a hundred thousand died and stood back up as soldiers to monsters we all thought to be nothing but stories to frighten children. The Free Folk have lost friends and family the same as we have in our own stupid wars. Until those wars are over, we need every possible person fighting to survive. Can you imagine how amused Ramsay Bolton would be if we saw ourselves killing each other? Whatever the conflicts of your fathers are and their father's before them, bury them or else we won't ever find peace, just more desire to kill each other until no one's left." Jon walked away from them, leaving them staring at the ground in shame and embarrassment. He felt frustrated of what he had to deal with.

Night came too quickly as Jon stood over the map of the North in the Command Tent. He was joined by Davos later on. "You'll be pleased to know that a battalion of sellswords fighting for House Forrester has arrived and also men of Houses Reed and Dustin."

"House Forrester sent mercenaries?"

"Ironwrath is being rebuilt after the sacking by House Whitehill. They only have about a baker's dozen sworn to them. Sellswords were friends of Lord Rodrick's late brother, Asher. They're repaying favors they owe."

"How many came?"

"The three Houses combined sent five hundred and seventy-eight men."

Jon pulled some tokens on the map and joined them with the ones representing his army. "Well, now we can say we have more than half of the opposing side. What about the Northern mountain clans?"

"We've received word from them. With the losses they suffered in your brother's war, they will not support your claim to Winterfell, but they won't support Ramsay either."

"Then that's it." He looked up at Davos while tossing aside the remaining tokens off of the map. "Four thousand, three hundred eighty-three men and four giants against eight thousand."

"There is something else you should know." Davos stepped took a few steps closer to Jon and spoke softer. "One of the mountain clans sent word that a farmer's livestock was burned a few days ago. He said that when the fire started, he could see two large birds flying and screeching in the sky and claiming they were what ignited his animals. If they weren't dragons then I'm not sure what to make of it."

"You said they were large, did the message say how big they were?" If they were growing, then soon what Jon feared might become true. Farms could only be the beginning of what they burn."

"It didn't specify. But if they grow as fast as you've told me, I wouldn't be shocked if they were bigger than your wolf."

"That's impossible, they only hatched seven months ago."

"And yet they are able to set an entire farm ablaze."

Jon looked over at the mountains on the map that were north of Winterfell. He wanted to find his dragons, but he hadn't the time, nor the freedom to do so. Tomorrow would be the parley with Ramsay. "We better win the battle then mustn't we?"

Jon had retired for the evening when the darkness of night covered the lands. Despite the hour, he was restless and troubled. He had many things on his mind. The Army of the Dead, the North, Ramsay Bolton, and then his dragons. Ygris and Lyarras were out there somewhere and it irritated him greatly.

While sitting on the furs of his bed, Jon brought a candle and set it nearby to use its light for reading. He was never one for books as Sam was, but the books Maester Aemon had in his personal possession had much to teach about dragons. The only problem was Jon hardly understood any of it. It was like trying to teach himself a new language and that wasn't including memorizing the phrase in High Valyrian.

"Dragon...zaldrizes, zeldrisez?" The pronunciation of each word felt strange against his northern accent. He'd never heard any of it spoken before so did not know what it meant to so like. "Let's see… dragonglass, or as it is known as frozen fire (zirtys perzys in High Valyrian), is to be created from the fires of the Fourteen Flames of Valyria but stories suggest it was created as a gift by first dragons to breathe fire." That sounded more like legend than history. He didn't know how far back dragons existed, but Sam had said that the Children of the Forest used dragonglass weapons, and they dated back thousands of years, even before the Age of Heroes.

Jon scanned over the texts and notes until one word, in particular, caught his attention. "Dracarys, translates to dragonfire. The word used by dragonlords on their dragons to command their fire. Dracarys." That word had a certain resonates with him when he said it. He felt the pronunciation to be perfect for once.

Jon turned his head to Ghost who was resting at the foot of the bed. "What do you think, boy?"

Ghost didn't move at all. He just kept sleeping.

Jon felt tired just watching his direwolf and decided to follow his example. He set the book aside and decided to rest. He slept peacefully that night even with the events that were about to transpire. His mind fell into dreams of a kind he never had before. He was a top a mountain, looking out to the lands around him.

The same thoughts running across his head but the voice that said them wasn't his. _'Where is_ father _? Where is_ father _? Where is_ father _?'_  He felt scared and alone, but he also felt warm. It was coming from inside of him and something next to him. He looked over and saw Lyarras sleeping. He walked over next to he and laid with her, tired and wanting to sleep. When curled up next to Lyarras, something whipped him in the face. It was long and white. A tail, Ygris's tail. But when he followed it to try and see her, he found the tail connected to himself. He was Ygris. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't. he wanted to find them, but he didn't know where they were in the mountains. As he could feel Ygris drift away to sleep, his connection with her faded. The only thing he managed to think of what to tell them. _'Over here!'_

Jon woke up, sweat covered his body. One of his guards had peaked in as if he was about to wake him up. "My Lord, Lady Stark and Ser Davos are waiting for you."

"I'll be a moment," he nodded.

Jon left his tent a few minutes later, still dressing. He strapped on his vambraces and pulled his cloak over his shoulders. He walked over to Davos and Sansa who were already on their horses ready to go.

"It's time," Davos said. Jon tied his hair up before mounting his horse. They were joined by the other Lords and Ladies who committed their men to them.

* * *

They saw Ramsay approaching them on the field, followed by Harald Karstark, Smalljon Umber, and a few other men, soldiers wearing Bolton armor and carrying banners with the flayed man.

Ramsay's face had a large grin on it, and Jon knew it wasn't a false one. His gaze was fixed on Sansa "My beloved wife… I've missed you terribly." His pale eyes turned over to Jon. "Thank you for returning Lady Bolton safe. Now, dismount and kneel before me. Surrender your army, and proclaim me the true Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I will pardon you for deserting the Night's Watch, I will pardon these treasonous lords for betraying my house." Nobody said anything. "Come, bastard. You don't have the men, you don't have the horses, and you don't have Winterfell." Ramsay almost broke out in laughter. "Why lead those poor souls into slaughter? There's no need for a battle. Get off your horse, and kneel. I am a man of mercy."

'And I'm the King of Westeros.' Jon thought mockingly. His response, however, was not so. "You're right, there's no need for a battle. Thousands of men don't need to die. Only one of us." Ramsay kept staring at him, his cold eyes felt worse than Melisandre's when she used to give that same look. "Let's end this the old way, you against me."

Ramsay chuckled at that. "I keep hearing stories about you, bastard. I've heard you fought against dead men and Wildlings aplenty. I've heard you led the battle at Castle Black. The way people talk about you, you're the greatest swordsman who ever walked. Maybe you are that good, maybe not. I don't know if I'd beat you, but I do know that my army will beat yours. I have eight thousand have, what, half that? Just over?"

"Aye, you have the numbers. Will your men want to fight for you when they hear you wouldn't fight for them?" The men following Ramsay were traitors, but they were still men of the North.

Ramsay's face almost grew angry, but he quickly went back to wicked smile. "He's good," he said pointing furiously at Jon, "very good! Tell me, will you let your little brother die because you're too proud to surrender?"

Sansa finally said something. "How do we know you have him?"

Ramsay looked at Smalljon Umber and nodded. Smalljon reached into a satchel on his horse and tossed the head of Shaggydog.

'Dammit.' Jon was filled with rage when the direwolf head rolled towards them but didn't show it.

"Now," Ramsay began "if you want to save your little broth-."

"You're going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton," Sansa spat at him, "sleep well." She turned her horse and rode away back to their encampment.

"She's a fine woman your sister. I look forward to having her back in my bed. And you're all fine-looking men! My dogs are desperate to meet you! I haven't fed them for seven days, they're ravenous! I wonder which parts they'll try first. Your eyes? Your balls! We'll find out soon enough. In the morning then, bastard."

Lyanna Mormont spoke up from behind. "Call him bastard one more time and when the battle's over and your dogs are starving, I'll rip your cock off, feed it to them, and let them have their way with you and your nice bloody twat."

Ramsay's smiling cracked again, but he restored it without hesitation. "I like you girl. When this is over, I think I might take a second wife." Ramsay's men turned their horses and galloped for Winterfell. Jon's company turned and began to make their way back to their encampment.

Tormund rode up next to Jon. "That little girl's got more balls than both our armies."

Jon smiled when he noticed Lady Mormont overheard Tormund and she cracked a tiny grin.

* * *

Night had fallen and Jon was in his tent. After a last war counsel, an argument with Sansa, and a conversation with Melisandre, he didn't want to do anything else. He needed to rest. Ghost was laying down at the foot of his bed. The moment Jon fell onto his bed, Ghost's head raised up, but not at Jon. His direwolf immediately ran outside without a moment's notice. Jon wasn't sure what just happened, but he didn't care at the moment, he had too much on his mind. He didn't even bother to change out of his armor, he just let himself drift away.

He had another dream, it was just like the one he had the night before, only this time he wasn't Ygris, he was Ghost. He was leagues away from the encampment, approaching the foot of a mountain. It wasn't an easy climb, but he eventually made it to the top. The night was clear and through the eyes of a direwolf, Jon could see more stars than he ever could have possibly imagined. The moon shined with divine light, a light that called to something inside of him.

Ghost lifted his headed and howled as loud as he could. The sound echoed through the mountains around him and the sounds of other wolves far away were heard. Through the sound of the howls, a song of the night was heard with something else other than a howl.

Though the winds of winter blow

They will never scare the crow

For when the king comes striking down

Our steel will break his crown

And then the skies will fill with light

Our brothers have won the fight

And then the one who was lost shall win

And the greatest of ages shall begin

The wolves will howl and the dragons cry

Through fire and ice, we will never die

Jon woke up, first light was approaching. Ghost was asleep at the foot of his bed but there were traces of snow and dirt lingering in the fur of his legs. Was it just a dream, or was Jon discovering what it meant to be a warg?

Jon's focus turned to the noise from outside of other men waking and preparing themselves for was the day. He slept in his armor which saved him the time to dress. He retrieved Longclaw and strapped it to his waist and then put on his cloak. Ghost followed him out to where many were getting ready to march to Winterfell. Sansa was there waiting to see him off.

"Jon," she said, "be careful. We've lost too many of our family. I don't want to lose another brother."

"I know, I don't want to lose Rickon either."

"I meant you."

The was heartwarming to hear her say. Jon hugged her tightly and then knelt down to Ghost. "Watch over her, boy."

Jon mounted his horse and was joined by Ser Davos and Tormund. He nodded to Ser Davos and announced to all behind him. "To Winterfell!" A horn blasted and the march to Jon's home began.


	11. Tormund I & Jon V

Tormund

The first part of the morning was spent by marching to battle against the Bolton fucker's army. The southern men marched together with drums to keep their pace in form while the Free Folk just marched how they pleased. There wasn't time for breakfast so everyone had to eat their food on the way.

The weathers were kind to keep the fields mostly clear of snow. However, that didn't mean that there wasn't something awful waiting for them all when they got there. When the army marched out of the covers of trees to the open field, they all saw several crosses with flayed with a person flayed from head to toe and set aflame.

The Bolton numbers were greater than theirs were, there was no denying it. His ranks of men and horses were organized and waiting for them. Their banners were raised high. Flayed men, grey chains, and white suns were all that showed on his side while black mooses, spotted checkers, lizard lions, long axes, Ironwoods, bears, and direwolves decorated over the Stark army. The Free Folk had no banners, but if they did they would be flying just as high as the others. The Stark army was fewer in number, but more a united people.

The two armies faced each other on the fields outside of Winterfell as the cold winds of the morning brushed gently. Two armies of one Kingdom, ready to clash steel. Jon Snow and the true army of the north, and Ramsay Bolton with the traitors of the north. But everything was still in the calm before the storm.

Tormund waited for whatever was to happen to happen. The Free Folk would have charged in already, roaring so loud the gods would tremble. But this was a southern battle. It had to be fought with wits first before impulsive action. But he couldn't stop wondering what they were all waiting for.

He didn't say anything though. He stood by with his men and waited. It was quiet, so much that it was aggravating. Something didn't feel right.

In the distance, at the front of the Bolton Army, a lone figure on a horse could be seen coming to the front of his army. After years of scouting for Crows from the bottom of the Wall, Tormund could see perfectly that it was that Ramsay fucker.

Ramsay had dismounted his horse and was pulled a rope behind him. On the other end was a boy dressed in ragged furs. That had to be Jon's half brother, Rickon Stark. He was tall for just being a boy.

Ramsay brought Rickon right next to him. He drew a dagger and held it up high so that all could see.

Jon dismounted his own horse and walked closer as if looking to see if what he was seeing was really happening. Tormund could feel Jon hold his breath in the moments that came from seeing the blade. Everyone watched as Ramsay brought the blade down, but he didn't stab or cut Rickon. Instead, Ramsay cut Rickon's bounds.

Tormund became confused. What was this man planning? He didn't know much about him except he was a man he made the word cruelty sound like a joke.

Ramsay moved Rickon forward and sent him on his way to the Stark army, just like that. But then a boy was given to him and Rickon started to run. No one chased after him and no one except Ramsay readied to fire arrows.

Jon quickly mounted his horse and began spurring it forward, going after his brother as fast as he could.

This didn't feel right. Tormund kept his eyes fixed on Ramsay as he began shooting arrows and saw that he hardly put any effort into the first ones. He didn't even look where he was shooting. But the whole time he did, he was smiling. This was all just a game to him.

As the two sons of Ned Stark got closer, Ramsay began to actually aim his shots. He kept missing, but Tormund had seen Ygritte and her skill and knew that this man was still only toying with his target. He was going to kill the boy.

Tormund turned to one of the giants in the army standing with the Free Folk. "Utag!" The giant wasn't the mightiest of the bunch, be he was the only archer among them. "Save the boy! Shoot the one with the bow!"

Utag quickly moved forward, the Free Folk and southern men moved aside as the ground shook from the steps of a giant, and he drew one of his spear long arrows and knocked his enormous bow.

Jon was nearly to his brother but Ramsay was knocking another arrow, this one was for the kill.

Utag drew back his arrow and aimed carefully for only a second before releasing it. The giant's arrow made a noise that cut through the air like a sword through flesh and it flew faster than any of the southern men could believe.

Ramsay had his bow drawn and aimed. He barely noticed the arrow coming at him before releasing his own. His jump out of the way and the dodged the arrow, but the men behind him weren't as fast to react.

The arrow hit an archer on the front lines and tore through the body into the man behind him and again and again. It skewered six men alone, but it didn't find its mark. Ramsay's arrow, on the other hand, was about to.

* * *

Jon

Even when the arrow had flown past Jon, he kept his eyes on Rickon. His little brother was running as fast as he possibly could. 'Almost there!' He was so close. He could hear his brother's whimperings of worry and fear.  _'I can make it!'_  He held his arm down from his horse to catch hold of his brother. He was mere seconds away.

Rickon reached out to grab Jon's arm before an arrow pierced through his chest and he collapsed to the ground crying out.

Jon stopped his horse and looked down at his brother. The furs Rickon wore were becoming stained with his blood. His breathing was desperate gasps for air that were becoming shorter and shorter.

In this moment, Jon could hear Sansa's voice in his head.  _'Don't do what Ramsay wants you to do.'_  He looked at where he was and realized he was in the middle of the field, alone and in range of arrows. But the anger in him clouded his judgment. Rickon was only a child and now he was dead. He's going to kill Ramsay if it was the last thing he did!

"Jon," a voice croaked out.

Jon quickly looked down and could see Rickon looking back up at him. His brother was still alive. Jon dismounted and knelt down to him. The arrow barely missed his heart, but the wound had the potential to be fatal. Jon picked up his brother and mounted him on his horse. He climbed on himself and spurred the horse to return to the safety of his army. Rickon groaned and cried. "Hold on little brother, you're gonna be alright!"

Jon's words were contradicted when the hissing of arrows sounded from above and fell all around. A couple found their way into the hind legs of his horse and both he and Rickon and thrown off.

The arrow in Rickon broke at the shaft and a loud pop was made when he hit the ground. He screamed out and hardly moved.

"Rickon!" Jon crawled over to his brother and picked him up into his arms and began to just run as fast as he could.

From behind, what one would think to be thunder was actually the Bolton and Karstark cavalry beginning their charge. Jon was still too far to reach his men in time and carrying his brother slowed him down.

He grew angry with every whimper and cry he heard from Rickon. Every reminder that his brother was getting closer to death. He couldn't be there for Robb when he needed him, he wasn't going to do the same to his baby brother.

In response to Ramsay's army, Jon's cavalry had begun their charge to meet them. Spears raised and banners swaying furiously through the air. The ranks parts to avoid Jon and Rickon and a group of riders slowed and halted for their commander and with them was a new horse for him. One of the men of House Reed dismounted and took Rickon from Jon. "Get him help, as fast as you can!" Jon mounted his new destrier and rode off to join his men as the infantry had nearly caught up with him.

Ramsay's cavalry was too far out of range for Jon's archers except for the giant with a bow. Spear size arrowed cut through the air faster than any horse could ride and with a force greater than any man could throw. They found their marks time and time again, killing more than one man and causing disruption in the charge which created breaking points to exploit.

Jon drew Longclaw and held it up high as he and his men unleashed a war cry. "WINTER IS COMING!"

The two forces met and the air was filled with the noises of men grunting, spears splintering, steel clashing and horses screaming. Jon was in the rear when he met the battle. Followed behind a line of horses that initially cut through but were picked off one by one. The battle became scattered so Jon sought out to find whoever he could to kill.

He met another horse rider but had the faster swing and cleaved his head right off. He found two men about to kill a Hornwood soldier and slashed one across the back and impaled the head of the other. He spurred his horse into a gallop and swung Longclaw at whoever he could.

Cries of death sounded as a volley of arrows came down upon everyone. Jon was struck in his back but his armor caught the arrow between the steel plates within the boiled leather. His horse was spared any injury from the volley as well but was stuck with a spear in the neck. He fell backward with his horse and quickly rolled to the side to avoid the spear sticking him. He rolled back and told hold of the shaft and thrust Longclaw into the soldier attacking him.

All around him was chaos. Mud was kicked up from the ground all around him and the shouts of war were loud. There wasn't any moment where Jon wasn't fighting."Another volley!" he heard someone call out. Without even thinking, Jon grabbed hold of a Bolton soldier and used him as a shield to the incoming arrows. The man struggled to get free but ceased when three arrows buried themselves into him.

Jon knew his army wouldn't fire a volley into this fray. The risk of hitting their own men was too great. Of course, it was Ramsay, he didn't care who died as long as he won. Another volley was incoming, but this time there was no one Jon could use to protect himself. He ducked to the ground and curled his body as the arrows came down and the bodies continued to pile up around him and the fights continued atop of them. The moment the last hiss of an arrow ended, he rose back up and immediately swung his sword at whoever would try and kill him. Time seemed to have no meaning as the fury of battle coursed through him. His blood ran hot with fury and focus and he only realized the moments he attacked and killed someone, everything in between seemed to just flash by.

The ground shook as the infantry joined the fight. The Giants had started slamming their fists to the ground, crushing any unlucky soldier that was in their path. Mag Mar the Mighty wielded a tree trunk as a club and swung it down left and right, sending enemies into the air screaming from pain. Wun Wun had picked up a man by his legs and used him as a weapon to the point that the body was nothing more than a sack of meat and broken bones. Fon Ran had taken to picking men from their horses and throwing them under his feet and crushing them. Because of that and his lack of whalebones for armor he became the main target by the Bolton forces.

In the distance, the archers had abandoned their bows and drawn swords, rushing to join the other men. They wouldn't act as Ramsay did and fire arrows that would kill their own.

Jon could hear the shouts of more men approaching the fight from Ramsay's side. The Umber and Bolton infantry was approaching. Jon looked up to where Ramsay watched the battle. He was surprised when he saw that the majority of Ramsay's cavalry were still with him. Was he saving them in case Jon's army defeated the men he already sent?

The Bolton infantry began to surround a great portion of Jon's men and encircled them against a hill of dead bodies. The front line was entirely shields and spears. Wun Wun and Mag Mar were trapped with them and were constantly stabbed at by the infantry. Fon Ran had fallen from being impaled by twenty spears and the other was still charging with the archers.

The wall of Bolton men chanted together as they advanced forward and thrust their spears, killing anyone unprotected. The space around everyone was growing tighter and tighter. The only escape was to climb over the hill of dead bodies. But when the first few men reached the top the Umbers began to cut them down and any others trying to escape. They pooled into the circle, forcing Jon's men into a tighter space with nowhere to go.

Jon fought many who flooded down from the piles of bodies until he faced Smalljon Umber. This was the man that gave Rickon to Ramsay in the first place. Jon's grip on Longclaw tightened and his inclination to kill rose. But before he could engage with Smalljon, one of the Bolton men dragged Jon down underneath the herd of soldiers running by in an attempt to kill him, but someone had unintentionally stepped onto the soldier's head and crushed it like an apple. The body fell on top of Jon and had pinned him to the ground. The madness around him was too much to even call for help. No one would be able to hear him and the crushing weight over him was making it nearly impossible to breathe. He suddenly became terrified. Terrified that he might die being trampled, that he might die in the dark again. In an instant, Jon mustered as much strength as he could and was able to pull himself up. The space between everyone was so little that he was practically lifted from the swarm of soldiers. Everyone trapped within was in a state of panic. The men around him could barely move at all when being attacked from all sides and nowhere to go.

* * *

Tormund

Mag Mar forced himself forward and bashed his club against many men, but their numbers were so dense that the force only killed a few and knock the others down only to get back up. He was impaled by many spears and roared out in rage of the pain.

Wun Wun stole one of the tall shields and used it to swat away spears thrust at him. But these southerners had better weapons than the crows of the Night's Watch. Their spears held strong and their steel was hard.

Tormund shoved his way through men and dead bodies to cramped to fall to the ground. He made for the hill of the dead. They needed to climb free and the only way out was there. His sword wasn't long like the southerners, making it better for close combat, but this was too close.

Whenever a fucking southerner with a flayed man on his armor got in the way, Tormund cleaved through their flesh with his sword. If the wound wasn't enough to kill, he would just do it again and again until that person was dead.

He nearly made it when one big fucker got in his way. The man had long brown hair and a beard that matched Tormund's in length. And he wore a set of chains across his chest like on the banners of the Umbers. He had to be their lord.

Tormund roared out as he clashed steel with this man and found his strength to be reckoned with. He found his strikes to be pushed back when he tried to push forward. He landed a hard punch in the Lord's face but it hardly did a thing. As if returning the favor, the Lord punched Tormund in the face so hard that it knocked him down.

The Umber Lord let go of his sword and pulled Tormund to the ground only to attack with his fists. The strength of his punches was heavy against Tormund's face. It felt like he had iron in the knuckles of his gloves.

Tormund tried to return an attack of any kind but the shuffling of men around him slowed his movements and was blocked each time. Even the space for the lord was getting too little so he resorted to using his head.

Thing's started to become dazed and everything stung. He felt his sword slip through his fingers and pain taking over his strength. He had never felt this way before. Not even fighting the dead. This was what a real fight was like with a hardened southern warrior, not a wild man from the True North.

The Umber Lord kept bashing his head into Tormund's over and over until suddenly, he just stopped. There was a horn being blown from far away and it seemed to get everyone's attention which created the opening Tormund needed. In an instant, Tormund broke free of the lord's grip and instead of using his head like he the lord had, Tormund sank his teeth into the lord's neck and tore out his flesh. The Lord cried out and hot blood began to spray out of his wound.

Tormund wasn't finished yet. He reached for his belt and pulled out a bone dagger he had and stabbed it deep into the wound. He roared out as he kept stabbing over and over until this southern cunt would stop screaming and just die. All the while, the horn kept blasting and the sound of thundering hooves was growing louder.

* * *

Jon

In the far distance, Jon heard the sound of a horn blowing. It wasn't one of his, and it wasn't part of the Bolton force. He looked out to a hill and could make out a flag that had the sigil of House Arryn being carried by hundreds of mounted knights. The Knights of the Vale had come to their aid and their numbers kept growing. Jon heard another horn sound coming from where Ramsay watched.

The remaining Bolton and Karstark cavalry forces charged to meet the knights. This was an unplanned move by Ramsay. It had to be. His men were disorganized in their charge and weren't acting on deliberation. In number, they were matched, but in terms of sheer might and skill, the Knights of the Vale had the upper hand. But there was no chance that they would reach the infantry in time. The two cavalry forces met and were clashing steel.

The hope Jon had of an opening being made for his men to escape the trap was lost when the Vale forces were delayed by the Bolton cavalry. The Knights of the Vale were far better than the Boltons, but by the time they would break through, Jon and his men would be dead.

Jon could see Tormund get the better of Smalljon and stabbing him in the neck many times with a bone dagger. That was the most they would get out of this. Jon was as scared as he had been at Hardhome. He couldn't do anything. All of his skill and experience and he couldn't do anything to save himself or his men. In the midst of everything, he couldn't help but call out amongst the chaos. "Someone, help us!"

As if the gods themselves heard Jon's plea, a loud screech broke through the noise of the battle. It was of a kind never heard by anyone. All who heard it turned to the north where it came from. For the briefest of moments, there no was fighting. From within the trees in the distance, two creatures sprang up into the air. When they got closer, Jon couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with joy and satisfaction to see Ygris and Lyarras. They had grown so much, it seemed impossible. Both of them were as large as a horse now. They continued to screech as they approached the battle, causing all that heard them be filled with astonishment and fear.

Jon felt a sudden spark within him that was the start of a fire. He could feel a connection with his dragons that he once tried to shut out. But not anymore. They were his dragons, his daughters. As they gliding over to where he was trapped, he shouted up at them with a bellowing voice. "Dracarys!" The instant his daughters heard him, they breathed fire on all of the Bolton infantry surrounding his men. Ygris and Lyarras split up and began to set fire to anyone who resembled the men that were attacking their father.

The wall of shields broke apart as many men ran from their positions engulf in flames. As the screams of men burning alive filled the air, Jon's men were able to push through and create an opening to escape and emptied out of the trap, killing any who got in their way. Jon managed to climb above the hill of dead bodies with Tormund and Wun Wun. Jon looked straight to Ramsay and watched as the bastard cowered from the battle and retreated back to Winterfell with his personal guard.

The three of them began to pursue Ramsay and more of Jon's army began to follow. By the time they reached the castle, the gates had already been barred. Archers in the ramparts began shooting arrows and crossbow bolts at Wun Wun as he slammed his body against the gates. Ygris and Lyarras flew towards the ramparts and released a short stream of fire that ignited the Bolton archers like they were covered in pitch.

Wun Wun finally managed to break the gates down and charge into the castle. He was met with dozens of arrows and fell to his knees. He roared out as he kept getting stuck by archers, even after Jon's men stormed through and began cutting all of them down.

Jon felt a great rage with every swing of his sword. These men were the last of the ones who betrayed his family. They were the ones that helped kill Robb and thousands of men loyal to his family. He wanted to crush their skulls, tear out their eyes, flay them like the banners they carried. He wanted them to feel the greatest pain ever known. But he wasn't like them. He was a son of House Stark.

With the last of the men garrisoned in the castle dead, Jon stood next to Wun Wun, looking at how exhausted he was. He reached out to him but before his hand got close an arrow was shot straight into the giant's eye. Wun Wun let out one last breath before falling dead to the ground.

Jon looked over and saw Ramsay standing with his bow looking perfectly calm about his situation. "You suggested one on one combat." Ramsay looked around at all the archers aiming their arrows at him and smiled. "I've reconsidered. I think that sounds like a wonderful idea." Ramsay drew another arrow and knocked it to the string of his recurve bow.

Jon tossed aside Longclaw and quickly picked up a Mormont shield and caught the arrow with it. Ramsay knocked another arrow and shot at Jon again as he advanced. Like the first arrow, it was caught by the shield. Ramsay tried shooting at Jon again, but his arrows never made contact with Jon's flesh. Before Ramsay could knock another arrow, Jon bashed the shield against his body, breaking the arrows against Ramsay's body and knocking him on his back. He dropped the shield and instantly began to punch Ramsay as hard as he could. No matter how many times or how bloody it was, Ramsay kept on smiling at him. Jon kept on punching even when his knuckles stung and his hands felt like sacks of loose meat.

After a while, Jon looked up and saw Sansa watching him. Ghost was standing next to her as he had ordered him to guard her before they left for the battle. He looked back at Ramsay and saw he was unconscious, the smile finally faded. He stood up from Ramsay's body, taking one last look at the scum beneath him, and walked away. As he passed Tormund, his words came out las soft as whispers. "Put him with his dogs." The battle was over. Winterfell was in the hands of the Starks once again.

Jon walked over to Sansa and finally found himself weary from the battle.

"Are you alright?" Sansa asked.

Jon merely nodded. His attention turned to the gates when some men had just come through the gates in a cart. In the back of it was the Maester of Bear Island tending to Rickon. Jon and Sansa rushed over to their brother. They saw him pale, and unmoving. "Is he dead?" Jon blatantly asked.

"No, my lord, but if he doesn't receive proper treatment, he will die before nightfall." Jon looked at the maester and then back to Rickon. There was still a chance for him.

"Get him inside. Find the maester of Winterfell!" Some Mormont soldiers had arrived shortly and approached Jon, escorting the maester. He politely bowed his head to Jon. "What's your name?"

"Wolkan, my lord."

"Will you swear loyalty to House Stark, now and always?"

"I will my lord, I only remained loyal to the Boltons out of fear. Roose was fair to me, but Ramsay was nothing but a mad dog. He fed Lady Walda and her newborn to his hounds. I would be honored to serve under House Stark."

"Then go help tend to my brother. If you can see to it that he lives, I'll make sure the rest of your days here are better ones than you've had."

Maester Wolkan bowed his head and followed to where Rickon was taken.

Jon heard the screeches of two whom he had missed for months. Ygris and Lyarras swooped down and landed in the courtyard and approached Jon slowly, inspecting him. Many around Jon watched in fascination the two creatures before them. They had changed not only in size, but the color and scales become more prominent. Ygris used to be pure white, but now there were hints of orange in her wings and at the base of the spikes along her spine. Lyarras color had begun to darken significantly, looking more like the color of the sea rather than the sky, but the winter rose blue remained. Jon reached out and caressed their heads with his own. "I missed you two. I'm sorry for what I did, I promise I won't do it again." He lifted away and pet them on their heads.

Ghost approached them and caught the attention of Ygris. The red eyes of direwolf stared into the orange eyes of the dragon. Ygris let out a small screech before she and Lyarras flapped their wings and took back to the skies.

Tormund looked over at Jon, awed in fascination. "They'll be back, they know this is their home."

Sansa had watched in marvel at them. "You weren't lying about them."

"I never would. I'll introduce you properly when I can." Jon smiled at her with his face bloodied and filthy. He looked around the castle and felt calm that he was home. But even with the battle won, there was one last thing left to do. "Winterfell is ours!" He declared. "Gather every banner and flag with a flayed man and burn them all! Let's see to it that the direwolves of House Stark fly over the walls once again!" he turned to the men who brought maester Wolkan. "Get word to Ser Davos. The dead are to be gathered and counted."

"Aye, Lord Snow." One of them said before they left to carry out their task.

Sansa approached him. "What now?"

"Now… we settle back in our home."


	12. Jon VI

Jon

The night after the battle was a sad one. Though Jon and his force achieved victory, almost half of his men gave their lives to retake Winterfell. The wounded were in numbers by the hundreds, and some of them might not make it through the night. Luckily for him, Rickon was not one of those few. But he was too weak to even leave his bed.

Jon had changed out of his battle stained armor and into a heavy tunic and cloak and accompanied Sansa to face the one her put her through a suffering he couldn't forgive. They stood outside the gate to the dog kennels and inside was Ramsay, still covered in his blood, hunched over and tied to a chair. He slowly started to wake up. His cold eyes gazed at him and Sansa.

"Ah, Sansa…" Ramsay's lips curved into a smile as they always would. "Hello Sansa." She didn't reply, she only met his gaze and didn't break it, staring at him as cold and as full of contained rage. "Is this where I'll be staying now?" Again, she said nothing. But that was enough to give Ramsay his answer. "Hmph, no. Our time together is about to come to an end. That's alright. You can't kill me, I'm a part of both you now." His eyes turned to Jon. "Tell me, how did it feel to look upon your brother's dead body after the battle?"

Jon wanted to smile, but he couldn't let himself show he took pleasure in what would happen. "I don't know. He wasn't dead when we beat you."

"I missed?" Ramsay let out a quiet chuckle. "Such a shame, and here I thought you had a chance to be the Lord of Winterfell. But, no. You're still nothing but a simple bastard."

Sansa spoke up. "Your words, will disappear, your house will disappear, your name will disappear. All memory of you will disappear."

Ramsay chuckled again before giving his answer to what Sansa said. "Sansa, you should know by now that the scars of pain never disappear." Something began growling from the kennels around Ramsay. He looked over at his dogs who began to approach him. "My hounds will never harm me." He said with confidence.

"You haven't fed them in seven days, you said it yourself," she spat. Jon wondered how she knew that when she had left the parley before Ramsay told everyone that.

"They're loyal beasts."

"They were, now they're starving."

One of them got right in front of Ramsay and began to sniff at him. Even Jon could smell the stench of his blood. "Sit," Ramsay hissed. The dog ignored Ramsay's command and slightly licked his face to taste the blood. "Down, down!" The hounds continued to ignore him and finally the one in front of Ramsay sank its teeth into his jaw and tore it off. The dogs all followed barked howled as they joined in the tearing apart of their master. Ramsay's screams were oddly satisfying and were louder than the barks of his hounds as the all began to rip him to pieces. Blood poured from every wound of Ramsay's body and he became bathed in the red.

After seeing enough, Jon and Sansa walked away from the feast, looking at each other trying to hide their smirks, but failing poorly. "What should we do with the hounds?" Sansa asked.

"Let them eat, they'll need their strength for practice."

"Practice, you intend to train them?"

"Not them, Ygris and Lyarras. I need to make sure they know how to hunt and chase their prey. The hounds will provide a good challenge."

Jon had no love for the dogs. Anything that Ramsay might have held dear could be wiped from the earth as far as he was concerned. He would burn it all to the ground.

* * *

Lady Melisandre was out of sight by midday. Jon could not deny that her abilities would provide some benefit for the wars to come, but he could not forgive the burning of children. She saved his life, so he would spare hers to repay his debt.

Nearly and hour later, hundreds of large funeral pyres that were built through the night were completed and the dead were resting on them. Jon stood atop the walls of Winterfell, looking out to field of graves. His army stood outside of the castle, listening to him speak a eulogy to honor those who died for him. "These men were men of the North. They came from every corner of their lands. They fought to rid the North of men who betrayed them and their kingdom. They shall be remembered not as soldiers who fought against the Boltons, but as heroes who freed the North from their grasp. And now, we lay them to rest with their forefathers." Tormund stood next to Jon holding a bow in his hands. He lit and arrow as he knocked it and aimed it at the pyre that Wun Wun and the other giant rested upon. He released it and everyone watched it sail through the air. The arrow found it's mark and ignited the pyre in a great blaze. As the flames spread, many other archers fired flaming arrows into the air towards the dead. The field of the battle was now a field of fire, the heat so great Jon could feel it from where he stood.

Ravens were sent out after the great funeral to all the northern houses who weren't present. The scrolls all contained the same message:  _Winter has come for House Bolton._

The next order of business for Jon was the trial of Harald Karstark. Jon was in the Great Hall with the other Lords of the North and who supported him and the Clan leaders of the Free Folk that survived. Harald was in chains, standing before Jon and Sansa who sat at the High Table. Jon stood up and address the accused. "Harald of House Karstark, you stand accused of treason against your king, Robb of House Stark and your liege lord, Rickon of House Stark. You withdrew your banners after swearing an oath of fealty to answer when called upon. You supported Roose Bolton and his bastard son Ramsay's claim as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. How do you answer these charges?"

Harald spat a gob of phlegm to the ground in front of Jon "Not guilty. I swore no such fealty to your brother when he murdered my father!"

"Your father was not murdered, he was executed for betraying the orders of Robb. He killed the Lannister boys who were innocent of the sins of their kin the Kingslayer. He called it vengeance when it was a disguise for madness. By not swearing fealty to your King, you were in open rebellion against him. You plotted the death of Rickon Stark with Ramsay Bolton and Smalljon Umber. As far as I can see, you are guilty of charges."

"I will not let you take my head from a block, bastard! I demand a trial a combat. I will die a warrior."

"My lord," Maester Wolkan said to Jon from behind him.

He turned his head to look at the maester. "I'm not a lord, Maester Wolkan."

"Forgive me, but a week before the battle had begun, I received a raven from the Citadel informing me that King Tommen Baratheon has forbidden trial by combat throughout the Seven Kingdoms."

Jon looked back at Harald, "despite at your attempt to show a bit of valor, you will not be dying that easily." The lords around Jon looked at him, confused. "There are forty-seven surviving Bolton soldiers, and you'll be joining their escort to the Wall where you will all take the black. Your daughter Alys will be name Lady of Karhold and the surviving soldiers of your army will be sent home. My brother made a mistake executing your father, I admit that. But justice was demanded and Robb gave it. I share blood with you Harald, and I won't become a Kinslayer. But more importantly, we live in a time when we need every person who still breathes to fight in the war that's coming from beyond the Wall."

Harald snickered at Jon. "And who are you to sentence me, bastard? You even said it just now, you're not a lord."

You're right" Sansa said as she stood up next to Jon. "But until Rickon wakes up from his injuries, I am acting Lady of Winterfell and I asked Jon to carry out your trial with full authority to sentence you to your fate."

Harald was speechless. He looked around at the other lords, as if expecting someone to object for him. But all remained silent. "As the Bastard of Winterfell commands me." He bowed at Jon, but he only did it to mock him. Harald was escorted out of the Great Hall by Hornwood soldiers as Jon sat back down, letting out a sigh of exhaust.

Don Mazin, the lord of House Mazin, broke the silence that surrounded the lords and ladies in the Great Hall. "What did you mean when you said 'the war that's coming from beyond the Wall?'"

Jon looked over to Lord Mazin and noticed he looked very similar to Lord Glover, except he had less hair on the top of his head, a whiter beard, and a rounder belly. "I'll tell you all when the rest of the northern lords and ladies are present. It is a matter that concerns everyone and it's better that it's said all at once."

Jon and Sansa dismissed the lords and ladies before they themselves left the Great Hall and went to see Rickon in his bed. They entered his room and saw him lying in his bed, asleep. His upper body was bandaged and his skin was covered in sweat. His breaths were long and steady, a sign of good recovery. This was the first time Jon and Sansa really looked at their brother. He had grown so much in the years since they'd seen him. His hair was longer and developed curls. His body grew much taller than any normal boy of ten and one years.  _'He'll be as tall as Ser Duncan the Tall one day,'_  Jon thought, smiling and relieved to see Rickon.

Maester Wolkan approached the side of Rickon and soaked a cloth in a water basin next to Rickon's bed. He folded it onto Rickon's forehead. "The arrow that pierced him grazed his collarbone, but I'm afraid it snapped when you retreated with him to safety. We managed to fix bone and stop his bleeding, but he will be in much pain. He can't leave his bed until he has healed."

"How long will it take?" Jon asked.

"It will take months I'm afraid. But he will be able to move better after about three weeks time."

Sansa sat in a chair next to her little brother. "How long until he wakes?"

"He should wake by tomorrow." Sansa grabbed Rickon's hand and gently squeezed it, making small circles with her thumb. She stood back up and left the room, Jon following her.

The two of them found their way to the top of the Winterfells walls, looking out to the North. Ygris and Lyarras were flying together a long way off in the distance. Jon seemed to be mesmerized by them, it was like watching a dance. Jon remembered the song from his dream as he watched his daughters.

"Though the winds of winter blow

They will never scare the crow

For when the king comes striking down

Our steel will break his crown

And then the skies will fill with light

Our brothers have won the fight

And then the one who was lost shall win

And the greatest of ages shall begin

The wolves will howl and the dragons cry

Through fire and ice, we will never die."

Sansa seemed impressed at him, she'd never heard Jon sing before. "Beautiful song, where'd you hear it?"

Jon smiled at her "I learned it from the dragons in a dream."


	13. Rickon I

Rickon

Jon and Sansa had visited Rickon as often as they could in the days after he had woken up. Ghost was his most frequent and favorite visitor though. The white direwolf would lay at the foot of his bed every night and keep him company in the afternoons. Although, he wasn't as playful as Shaggy dog or Summer. He always looked sad. Through his window, Rickon could even sometimes see the dragons flying and he could hear their screeches. He couldnt believe it when Jon told him that they were his and how they saved his army from the Boltons. He wanted to see them very badly, but until he could breathe without feeling pain, he wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.

Today though, neither Sansa, Jon, or Ghost came to see him. The only one who kept to his regular visits was Maester Wolkan. He was assisted by a maid as they were changing Rickon's sweaty bandages. He had to wait for them to finish cleaning him before the wrapped him back up and put a clean shirt on him before he could speak. "Where's Sansa and Jon?" he spoke slowly, not wanting to feel any pain in his efforts.

Maester Wolkan disposed of the old bandages into a large sack before answering. "They are attending the meeting of all the Northern Lords. But if I'm being honest, I don't think it will end very pleasantly, my lord." The maid assisting him departed with the sack and left Rickon alone with the maester.

"How come?"

"I did not grow up in the North, but I know very well the stubbornness Northerners have towards the Wildlings. The hatred towards them bleeds down to the southern kingdoms as well."

"But they fought for us. Without them, Jon wouldn't have won back Winterfell." And from what Rickon was told, not all the Lord's who were present had any part in the battle at all, they hid away in their castles.

"I don't think they'll take that to heart when he defends them. The only one they'll really listen to is your sister since she's the acting Lady of Winterfell until you recover. And I mean no disrespect of course, but your half brother is a Snow, not a Stark."

Rickon didn't know much of politics, or diplomacy. When Bran was Lord of Winterfell, he only attended a few of his meetings out of boredom, but he never understood very well what was going on. They were all about demands and sacrifices to meet those demands. But in every meeting, the people always listened to Bran because he was their lord and the were sworn to obey him. "I want to go."

Maester Wolkan turned to Rickon, "My lord, your injuries still haven't healed enough for you to even sit up without feeling pain."

"Then I won't sit up, I'll be carried." One way or another, Rickon was going to this meeting.

"My lord-"

"I want to go!" Shouting made Rickon feel sore from his wound. He could feel himself tear up, but he was able to fight back the pain. "I am the Lord of Winterfell, and I order you to have me brought to the meeting."

Maester Wolkan opened his mouth to object, but he bowed his head and left the room. He returned shortly with four Stark guardsmen. He instructed them to carefully lift Rickon out of bed. Rickon felt their hands avoid his injury as he was picked up from his bed. He could still feel a small pulsing from his wound, but it was like a small headache that could often be ignored. They all walked slowly throughout the halls of Winterfell, Maester Wolkan following closely behind them and guiding them to be careful and to slow down.

As Rickon and his guards were approaching the Great Hall, he could hear voices he did not recognize echoing from the chamber. "You can't expect the Knights of the Vale to side with Wildling invaders!" The accent of the man who spoke wasn't Northern, he was probably one of the men from the Vale.

"We didn't invade, we were invited." Whoever said that had to be a Wildling.

"Not by me."

Rickon could hear Jon speaking over the other lords before someone else spoke, this time it was a Northerner. "The Boltons are defeated. The war is over. Winter has come. If the maesters are right, it'll be the coldest one in a thousand years. We should ride home and wait out the coming storms."

Jon's voice became loud again. "The war is not over. And I promise you friend, the true enemy will not wait out the storm, he brings the storm." Rickon's guards finally entered the hall and all eyes were on Rickon. Jon and Sansa sat at the High Table and Ghost laid down in front of it. "What do you think you're doing out of bed?" Jon demanded.

"I wanted to know what happening and I wanted to hear what the Lords of the North were talking about."

"Rickon you're not strong enough yet, you need to give yourself time to heal. You can't even sit up."

Rickon looked over at the unoccupied seat next to Jon and Sansa who sat opposite of it. "Sit me down at the chair" he ordered. The men carrying him obliged to their Lord's comand and slowly made their way to the chair. They carefully lowered Rickon down and sat him up in his seat. He groaned about as the feeling in his shoulder worsened, but it slowly died down. Once he was what could be called comfortable, he faced everyone in the room, trying to act as formal as he could. "There are some things we need to do before we continue this bickering." The Northern Lords murmured to each other until Rickon raised his voice as loud as he could without feeling pain. "I am the rightful Lord of Winterfell, but I have no idea what to do. I left here with Bran when I was six, and I've missed so many things since then. I can't even read or write very good. But I do know that I'm not ready to be lord just yet, and I know that Jon can't because he's only my half-brother. So, until I am, we need a strong lord to lead us in the wars to come. With the Boltons dead, there is a castle without a ruler, so I name Jon Snow as the new lord of the Dreadfort and the lands it holds." Many of the lords nodded and banged their tables in agreement to what Rickon just did. Jon was shocked, looking at Rickon in full surprise not expecting him to do that. Sansa only smiled at her little brother, looking proud at him. "Jon," Rickon looked directly at him, "you led the attack against the Boltons, you went to every lord you could and asked them to fight for you. Not all the lords here said they would when you asked, but some of them did. You led them and the Wildlings and won. You're the leader we all need." Instead of cheers and poundings of agreement, there were only mutterings amongst the lords.

A small girl, barely younger than Rickon, stood up and spoke with a fierce voice. "Your son was butchered at the Red Wedding Lord Manderly," she was looking directly at a very large lord with white hair, "but you refused the call." She turned to face to one of the few lord Rickon did recognize in the room, Robett Glover. "You swore allegiance to house Stark, Lord Glover. But in their hour of greatest need, you refused the call. And you Lord Cerwyn," her gaze fell upon one of the younger men amond the lords, "your father was skinned alive by Ramsay Bolton. Still, you refused the call." Lord Cerwyn's eyes fell to the floor, ashamed to look at the young lady. "But House Mormont Remembers, the North remembers. We know no King, but the King in the North, who's name is Stark." She looked directly at Jon after she said that. "Lord Rickon is right, and I don't care if Lord Snow's a bastard. Ned Stark's blood runs through his veins. He's my king from this day until his last day!"

Rickon could tell that Jon was speechless. Anyone in his position would be. As the Lady of House Mormont sat down, Lord Manderly stood up. "Lady Mormont speaks harshly, and truly. My son died for Robb Stark, the Young Wolf. I didn't think we'd find another King in my lifetime. I didn't commit my men to your cause because I didn't want more Manderlys dying for nothing, but I was wrong! Jon Snow avenged the Red Wedding! He united the Wildlings, the North men, and even dragons as no man who lived could've. He is the White Wolf, the Winter Dragon," the lord drew his sword and raised it high above him, "the King in the North!" he fell to one knee as many cheered in unison.

Lord Glover stood up next to the kneeling Lord Manderly. "I did not fight beside you on the field. And I will regret that to my dying day. A man can only admit when he was wrong, and ask for forgiveness."

Rickon looked over at Jon who barely managed to bring his words above a whisper. "There's nothing to forgive, my lord."

Lord Glover turned his head to make sure all could hear his words. "There will be more fights to come, and House Glover will stand behind house Stark as it has for a thousand years! And I will stand behind Jon Snow," he too drew his sword and raised it high, "the King in the North!"

Someone called out to them amongst the rest of the lords. "The King in the North!" Every lord stood up and drew their swords cheering. "The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North!"

Rickon couldn't hold back his smile as he looked at Jon when he stood up. He couldn't shout with the other lords, but he could still say the words. "The King in the North."


	14. Edd I

Edd

Being Lord Commander looked easier than it actually was. At least for Edd it was. Aside from the tasks Jon had to do, he now had to take charge of over two thousand men who came from Essos. The three Castles weren't large enough to house all of them, so Edd had to recommission the Torches, Greengaurd, and Stonedoor. He couldn't garrison men at the Night Fort yet, there wasn't enough. But men still came in shipments of more than one hundred fifty at a time now that the fleet of three ships grew to seven. Edd had arranged for sixty brothers to begin the reconstruction of Greyguard. The Wall has never been as strong as this for at least a thousand years. There was also the issue of Wildling survivors being aloud past the Wall. Jon said to let them all pass, but twice already some of the small groups tried to attack his brothers in arms and they had been forced to kill them. But it never happened with the giants or their mammoths. They seemed to keep to themselves and ignore the men as if they didn't care for fighting them, and no one dared to raise any weapons against them.

Edd was currently with his new officers, sitting at the High Table in the commons, discussing the refortification of the Long Barrow and possibly Sable Hall when enough men were available, and it wouldn't be long until there was. The First Builder, Ser Andrew Lorch, was explaining that they did not have the time nor the resources to do both. He had been a brother for nearly forty years since he was twelve. "We have the lumber and the steel, but we don't have the food to feed the men. The game in those parts is scarce and even with the supplies that come from the Essosi ships, we won't have enough. I can only restore one of the castles."

The First Ranger, a man of twenty-one named Jack Ironsmith, voiced his opinion. "The Wall above the Longbarrow has been untouched for thousands of years. It's the only section that can't be patrolled and the stairways haven't been fixed for an even longer time. But if we do, we'll have access to the ballistaes on top. And if memory serves me right, they were a gift from one of the Targaryen kings. The design is far advanced than anything we have and can fire six bolts in ten seconds. But the Sable hall on the other hand, if we have a garrison there, we can start training for mounted combat." He had only just recently joined the Night Watch not more than three moons ago, but he was as nearly a good a fighter as Jon and a very talented strategist.

The First Steward, Michael Stonehouse, didn't say anything. Edd assumed he was still preoccupied with adjusting to his new position. He had just been appointed the First Steward after the one before him died in an accident with the Wildlings while at Eastwatch working through a problem with Cotter Pyke.

"We'll reconstruct the Long Barrow" Edd said. "If we can get access to the ballistaes on the Wall, we might be able to construct more and mount them at the other castles. Mounted combat is only good when taking the offence. We can't attack the White Walkers, we can only defend against them. We are the shield that guards the realms of men."

"By your orders, Lord Commander" Jack said. "However, I will only be able to spare about fifteen rangers. The Master at Arms and I still have our hands full training the new recruits. Most of the ones from Essos look like they can barely lift a sword, let alone wield one. But the few who can, their style of swordplay is vicious. Especially the ones that wield those curved blades. I forgot what they're called. Duthruggers? Dothrigee?"

"The Dothraki" Michael corrected. "We're lucky to have as many of them as we do. Hardly any of them have any braids." The other officers looked at each other, confused as to what First Steward Stonehouse had said to them. "The Dothraki braid their hair for every victory they achieve, but if they should lose at some point, they cut their braids off as an act of shame." Michael Stonehouse wasn't the size of Sam, but he was just as knoledgable in the things no one else would be.

"I don't care if they have enough braided hair to scale up the Wall" Edd snapped. "I care if they will be able to face the army of a hundred thousand dead men that's coming. Gather the men you need and ride for the Long Barrow." The first officers all bowed their heads and left Edd to himself.

Edd laid back into his chair and let out a long sigh. He needed some time to rest. Unfortunately, he would not be blessed with such a luxury when he heard the horn atop the wall blast twice.  _'More Wildlings.'_  Edd got up from the table and gathered eight other brothers of the watch to accompany him. With the violence that had broken out, he had to be cautious when letting the Wildlings through the Wall.

They each gathered torches and lit them before they entered the tunnel and walked to the gates. Six of the brothers had drawn their swords when the light from the True North cracked through the darkness. By the time the gate was up, Edd looked upon only two people waiting for them, a boy and a girl. The boy was lying down on a crudely made sled, which probably meant he was a cripple. The girl carried a rusted sword at her side. They were dressed in furs, but they didn't look like Wildlings, but Edd had to ask anyway. "You Wildlings?"

The girl gave their answer. "I'm Meera Reed, daughter of Howland Reed." She gestured to the boy on the sled. "This is Brandon Stark, son of Ned Stark."

Edd took a quick look at his face, trying to see any resemblance to Jon but couldnt find any. "How do I know that's true?"

The boy looked at Edd, something about his gaze wasn't human. "You were at the Fist of the First Men. you were at Hardhome. You've seen the Army of the Dead. You've seen the Night King. He's coming for us, for all of us."

That didn't answer his question, but it was enough to remind him that it didn't matter. "Come on, let's get them inside." Two of the brothers sheathed their swords and grabbed the ropes to Brandon's sled and pulled him through. Edd took one last look at beyond the Wall before going back inside, looking out for the strom that covered the dead. He turned around around and returned inside the tunnel, the gate closing right behind him.

Edd brought them to the common room for some food, they looked like they haven't eaten anything in days. Two bowls of hot soup were given to them and Meera immediately began to scarf it down. Brandon on the other hand acted the opposite. He ate his slowly. "I'm the acting Lord Commander Eddison Tollett. There's an escort of men from the battle at Winterfell arriving in a few days. You can leave with them when they return to Winterfell after dropping off their prisoners of war."

Meera had just finished her soup and set her bowl aside. "Thank you, Lord Commander."

"I heard that you were let beyond the Wall by Samwell Tarly."

"He did, at the Nightfort. He gave us some dragonglass before we parted ways with him and his woman." Meera reached her hand to her belt and pulled out her dragonglass dagger Sam gave her years ago.

"Do you want to know what's happened since then? I'm sure you have a lot of questions."

"I know that Robb died" Bran said. "He died at the Twins along with my mother. I know what happened to Jon and why he was released from his vows. I know about his dragons." Edd looked at him, amazed and confused.

"Why did you go beyond the Wall?" He couldnt help but ask. Anyone would ask that to a cripple who survived the True North longer than some experienced rangers could.

"There was someone I had to meet. Someone who had to teach me something very important for Jon and someone else."

Edd was mystified, the more Bran said, the less he understood. "How do you know these things?" Bran was beginning to scare him. He had kept the same face he had when the gates had opened. He didn't seem to be hiding his emotions, it was as if he had none to begin with.

"It's complicated. Believe me when I tell you that. The less you know the better." Bran finished the last of his soup and set his bowl aside. "If you wouldn't mind, I would like to go the weirwood tree beyond the Wall some time tomorrow."

"I've forbidden any ranging parties to go beyond the Wall. We can't afford to lose even a single man."

"The dead won't attack yet. They're not even marching south."

Edd looked puzzled as did Meera. "How do you know that?"

"Do you know what a warg is?"

"Aye, I do."

"I scouted the army's movements with ravens. The Night King is adding as much as he can to his army. Not just men, he also has giants, snow bears, direwolves, and many other beasts. He won't be marching south for quite a while."

Edd just remained silent. This was good news from a certain angle. It meant that his men had more time than they thought they did. "Do you know where he'll attack?"

"The bulk of the army is near Hardhome, but they're moving slowly."

"Even so, I can't let you pass. If you want to pray to the old gods, you'll have to wait till you get to Winterfell."

"I'm not going to pray, I'm going see that I can see."

Edd still had no idea what he meant. If the Stark boy wanted to look out to the North, he should go to the top of the Wall. "See what?"

"Everything, everywhere, at every moment."


	15. Sansa II

Sansa

Sansa sat next to Jon at the Lord's table as the meeting had begun. This time, Rickon remained in his bed as he was told and to make sure he did, the guards were ordered to let him heal before assisting him. She and Jon were glad for his support and his acts as the Lord of Winterfell, but he still disregarded his own health. As punishment, Sansa had instructed Maester Wolkan to spend many hours with Rickon, teaching him to read. Once he could sit up properly, he would begin to practice his writing. She also noticed that Ghost had practically abandoned Jon for Rickon. She felt that Ghost knew about the fate of his brother, and since he was gone he needed to be the one to keep Rickon safe.

Currently, Jon was addressing all of the Lords in the room. "I want every northern maester to scour their records for any mention of dragonglass. Dragonglass kills White Walkers, it's more valuable to us than gold. We to find it, we need to mine it, and we need to make weapons from it." Jon had told her of the dragonglass they found at the Fist of the First Men and how most of it was lost at Hardhome. "Everyone, ages ten to sixty will drill daily with spears, pikes, bows and arrows."

"It's about time we taught these boys of summer how to fight" Lord Glover jested.

"Not just the boys. We can't defend the North if only half the population is fighting."

Lord Glover stood up at Jon, as if trying to intimidate him. "You expect me to put a spear in my granddaughter's hand?"

Lady Mormont proved to be far more intimidating than Lord Glover tried to be. "I don't plan on knitting by the fire while men fight for me." Sansa allowed her lips to curve into a faint smile this one time. "I might be small Lord Glover, and I might be a girl, but I'm as every bit as much a northerner as you."

"Indeed you are my lady, no one is questioning-"

"And I don't need your permission to defend the North!" She looked over at Jon as if she was tired of Lord Glover. "We'll begin training every man, woman, boy, and girl on Bear Island." The other lords banged their tables in agreement. She was right, everyone needs to fight for the North.

Jon resumed speaking his plans "While preparing for an attack, we need to sure up our defences. Now that the Dreadfort in under new lordship, we need men to garrison there to protect its people and support the Northern forces. I'm not the King of the Free Folk." The red headed Wildling turned his head to Jon. She met him once but forgot his name. He called her kissed by fire because of her hair. He also seemed to follow Brienne from time to time, but he never talked to her. "But if we're going to survive this winter together-"

The Wildling stood up from his seat "You want to give us a better roof over our heads? I don't think anyone of us will object to that."

"Aye, gather the Free Folk who are still in the Gift and send them to The Dreadfort. But I also need you and about a hundred others to head to Eastwatch and Castle Black. I've received some reports from the Lord Commander than some of the Wildlings are attacking the Night's Watch believing it to be a trap. They need to see familiar faces working with those they distrust."

"Then that's where I'll go. Looks like we're the Night's Watch now." Sansa thought that was amusing, but couldn't let herself laugh. She could tell many of the other lords didn't like the sound of that.

Jon waited for the Wildling to sit down before resuming his announcements. "Thanks to support of the Dragon Queen, Daenerys Targaryen, for this first time in hundreds of years, there are enough men that three more of the castles along the Wall have been regarrisoned and more men from Essos continue to come to the North." There was a bit of discontent amongst the lords when they heard that. Foreigners manning the Wall? It was unthinkable.

"Do you know how many men have come?" Lord Glover asked.

"I was told around two thousand."

"That's two thousand foreigners being stationed at our northern flank. When the Mad King's daughter arrives in Westeros, she'll command them to attack!"

"I was also told that only one out of ten of the men that arrived was stationed as a ranger because only one out of ten could swing a sword and not fall over. The rest of them are either builders working to restore the castles or stewards providing support to the rangers and teaching many of those who do not speak the common tongue how to speak it. They are also working on a larger fleet to ferry more supplies to the Wall from Essos, which is relieving some of the weight from the North regarding our own supplies."

"I'll trust you, your Grace, but I won't trust them."

 _'We're northerners, nobody here will.'_  Sansa thought.

"You don't have to, you only need to hope that the Wall doesn't fall. But if it should, the first two castles in the army of the dead's path are the Last Hearth and Karhold."

Lord Royce had immediately stood up to voice his opinion, surprising to Sansa. "The Umbers and the Karstarks betrayed the North. Their castles should be torn down with not a stone left standing."

Sansa decided now was a better time than ever to get her word across. "Lord Royce, did you not listened to a thing Jon just said? We need to sure up our defenses. The castles committed no crimes and we need every fortress we have for the war to come. We should give the Last Hearth and Karhold to new families. Loyal families that supported us against Ramsay." Many of the lords agrred with her idea. It made sense after all. The last time a Karstark was given justice, their child retaliated against the North. The Umbers gave Rickon to Ramsay and betrayed their rightful lord.

"The Umbers and the Karstarks have fought beside the Starks for centuries. They've kept faith for generation after generation-"

"And they broke faith." She couldn't believe Jon would defend the families who betrayed their brothers and fought against them.

"I'm not gonna strip these families of their ancestral homes because of the crimes of a few reckless sons-"

"So there's no punishment for treason and no reward for loyalty?" The was a long silence that no one dared to break. Sansa could see anger rising in Jon as he turned to face her.

"The lives of the lords who committed treason against us were forfeit when they declared for Ramsay. Smalljon Umber died on the field of battle. Harrion Karstark has given his life to the Night's Watch-"

"They fought against us for Ramsay. Give the castles to families who fought for us against Ramsay." This earned many of the lords agreeing with her. Though some of them muttered to each other in disagreement.

"When I was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, I executed men who betrayed me. I executed men who refused to follow orders. My father always said 'the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword' and I have tried to live by those words. But I will not punish a son for his father's sins. And I will not take a family home away from a family who it has belonged to for centuries." Sansa met his gaze. She was being ignored completely by him. "That is my decision, and my decision is final." Sansa was angry at him. If he wasn't going to listen to her, then why have her at the table at all? "Ned Umber," Jon called out. A boy younger than Lady Mormont stepped forward from his seat. He was nervous and had the right to be. "Alys Karstark." Ned was joined by an older girl whose red hair was brighter than her own. Jon motioned them to step forward to the foot of the table and they did as commanded. Sansa could see that they were ashamed and scared as they walked forward. "For centuries our fathers fought side by side on the battle field. I ask you to pledge your loyalty once again to House Stark, to serve as our bannermen, and to come to our aide whenever called upon." The two of them drew their swords and bent the knee to Jon, looking more determined to face him. "Stand." They did as they were ordered. "Yesterday's wars don't matter anymore. The North needs to band together, all the living North. Will you stand beside me, Ned and Alys, now and always?"

"Now and always," They said in unison. The support of the northern Lords was greater with Jon than it was with Sansa. She couldn't help but feel disappointed that there was more consequence than there already were. Jon was being to merciful and not presenting justice were it belonged.

* * *

After an argument followed by a discussion with Jon about Cersei, Sansa needed to calm down somehow. She decided to visit Rickon in his room. Not necessarily to chat, but just to be there to get away from Jon. She sat herself near the hearth of the room, sewing a new cloak for Rickon. His would be similar to the one she made for Jon, except she would be using a black wolf pelt in memory of Shaggydog. She was working on the straps when Rickon decided to take a break from his reading lesson and talk to her.

"You're being too quiet today, what happened at the meeting?"

She paused her stitching and looked up at her head to her brother. "I thought it would be best if the Last Hearth and Karhold were given to different families that fought for us since the Umbers and Karstarks betrayed us."

"But Lord Umber died and his men were only following his orders. He was the one who killed Shaggydog gave me to Ramsay."

"Exactly, so why would Jon defend Ned Umber's claim to the Last Hearth?"

"Because it wasn't his fault."

Sansa was astonished that a simple answer could mean so much. It's not their fault. They're not the ones doing it. "I wanted their houses to be eradicated. I didn't say it, but I wanted it."

There was a brief silence before Rickon responded to her. "I remember one night, long before you left Winterfell, I asked father to tell me a scary story before bed. He said no, but I wouldn't go to sleep without one. He finally said alright and told me the story about the song the Rains of Castamere. Tywin Lannister was challenged by House Reyne, so he wiped them out. He burned down their castle and killed them all. The only thing that people will have to remember them is a song about their demise. After he told it to me, he asked me a question. He asked me what was worse: to die, but be remembered? Or to live, but be forgotten?"

Sansa felt dread come over her when he said the words of their father. She didn't think of the after effects of her demands when she gave them. She didn't want that kind of fate to happen to someone who had no part in their fathers' crimes. Her eyes began to water and tears began to fall onto the cloak. She wiped her eye's and collected herself. "Thank you Rickon" she said before resuming her work.

He seemed to sense the desire of changing the subject, so it he did so, casually. "How's the cloak coming?"

"Just fine, you should get back to your reading. You were the one complaining you didn't know how."

"I know how, just not very good." He looked over at the cloak and saw it was nearly done with one a few more days of work. "What will you work on next?"

"I don't know." She'd already made enough dresses for her and enough clothes for Jon. She was going to make some for Rickon, but some of Brans old clothes were found in what remained of the Sacking of Winterfell and they fit Rickon perfectly.

"How about Jon's sigil?"

She paused and looked at him. "What?"

"I made Jon a lord and he needs his own sigil."

"He's a bastard of the Starks, his sigil will be ours, but instead of a grey direwolf on a white field it will be a white direwolf on a grey field." Sansa just realized the coincidence that Jon's bastard sigil matched his title and his direwolf.

"I think you should include the dragons."

"The dragons?" She remembered when Lord Manderly declared Jon the Winter Dragon. It would be poetic to incorporate something like that into a sigil for him. "And how would I do that?"

"You could put Ygris and Lyarras on the side of the direwolf. The direwolf would be looking forward instead of to the side and the two Night Dragons will be on each side of the face."

"The Night Dragons?"

"They were born in the Night's Watch weren't they? So they're the Night Dragons."

Sansa was going to argue at the silliness of that, but it actually had a nice ring to it. "I'll see what I can do."


	16. Daenerys II

Daenerys

Meeting the Lady Melisandre was very interesting. She did not seem like any of the priests or priestess' Daenerys had heard about from Tyrion and Varys. She didn't impose anything about the Lord of Light to her. She actually seemed cautious of her position as a priestess. What she said early about prophecies being dangerous, it felt like she had a new view of the powers of her God. Daenerys gave her accommodations for her stay at Dragonstone and was walking in the castle halls with Lord Varys. "Am I correct to assume that you did not know of the new King in the North, Lord Varys?"

"You are, my Grace. In fact, with the Bolton rule, it seems my little birds have had difficulties singing their songs with all the savage acts being committed. There were roads and castles decorated with flayed corpses of any who were caught opposing Ramsay's claim. But, now that things have taken a turn for the better in the North, I will be able to hear them soon."

"How long will that wait be?"

"No more than a week."

"Good, I would like to hear what your little birds sing about this Jon Snow. I find it strange that one of his brothers of the watch would tell me that they faced the danger of an army of Wildlings only to now learn that they were let through the Wall. What kind of common enemy would unite Wildlings with anyone south of the Wall?"

"I will spread the word and await the whispers, your Grace. Is there anything else you would require of me?"

"Not tonight. Get some rest, Lord Varys. We have much to do tomorrow." Varys bowed his head at Daenerys before he turned around and walked back where they came from. Daenerys herself was going to retire for the night, and she needed all the sleep she could get.

Missandei met her in her solar and helped her out of her robes and into her nightgown. Missandei departed as soon as she was no longer needed and left her Queen to her sleep. The storm outside would not let up anytime soon, and the noise of the thunder was as loud as the charging of the horses of her Dothraki horde. The air was cold and Daenerys couldn't wait to be in the warmth of her fur blankets. She doused the candles in her room, save one, and rested her body onto the softness of her mattress. Her eye's fell closed as if they were weighed down. The darkness was comforting as she felt herself become lost in the void of sleep.

One moment she was laying in her bed, but then the next moment she was on a hill that was covered in a thick sheet of snow, looking beyond at a castle. She could see smoke rising from inside and was drawn closer to it. When she reached the gates, they opened for her and revealed the interior of a courtyard. Everything inside was covered in a layer of ice, yet smoke was emanating from it. The stone foundations were collapsed into rubble all around her, yet the castle still stood strong. As she walked through the disaster, she could her the sounds of battle coming from a doorway that led underground into darkness. She followed the noise and entered the passageway. In the shadows, she could see a light far away, but it grew larger as she approached it with haste. She exited out of a tunnel and was in the courtyard of a different castle. There materials that made it were all black and there was a lift leading up to The top of a Wall of Ice. She was at Castle Black. The sounds of battle suddenly disappeared and were replaced by the sound of a man crying. Daenerys looked over in the center of the courtyard and saw a man in black armor fallen on his knees, holding someone in his arms. As she approached him, she took notice to his raven black hair and a sword next to him in the ground. It was Valyrian steel, but the blade was broken in the middle into two pieces. She was standing behind the man and saw the face of a woman he was cradling in his arms. She had fiery red hair and her skin was pale. An arrow pierced her chest and blood was running down the shaft. Daenerys couldn't help but put her hand on the man's left shoulder. She felt his bare, right hand take hold of hers gently. He didn't say anything or look at her, he just held her hand in his own. Holding onto to him felt comforting to her as she hoped it did to him.

Daenerys suddenly heard the roar of a lion behind her and immediately let go of the man and spun around. She found herself outside the entrance of the Red Keep. She looked back behind her and didn't see the man or Castle Black. Instead, she saw flowers before her, wilting away on the ground. They littered the ground by the tens of thousands and continued into the streets of King's Landing. She heard the roar again from behind her and looked back at the Red Keep. The large doors parted and she was immediately transported to the throne room. Inside, the room had a light covering of snow and the roof above her was damaged. She had seen this before in the House of the Undying. When she looked at the Iron Throne, she noticed something was different than the first time she saw it. The throne had an additional sword in it, but it was stabbed into the backing of the throne rather than forged as a part of it. Around the sword's handle was a golden hand wrapped below the guard of the hilt, and a silver hand wrapped below it ending at the pommel. She approached the Iron Throne and stretched out her hand to touch the sword. The moment her fingers felt the cold sword, it fell out of the throne and all the swords that were forged into it came loose and clashed as they collapsed into a pile before her.

Daenerys turned back around, hoping she would be taken somewhere away from where she was, but in front of her stood three people. On her left was her late husband Drogo. He was coved in scars along his chest and neck. On her right was someone she'd never seen before, but knew who he was. His silver hair and violet eyes gave him away. Rhaegar looked much stronger and older than Viserys had. Holding his hand was a woman Daenerys didn't recognize. She was older than her, very beautiful, and had long black hair. She wore a crown of blue roses on her head and gazed at her calmingly.

The silence around all of them was broken by a rumbling coming from the floor. Daenerys heard the roaring of a lion once more, but it sounded as if the lion was rabid. The light outside the Red Keep began to turn green. The stone floor began to crack and before Daenerys could guess what was happening, she and those before her were surrounded by green flames.

Daenerys's body shot forwards as she woke up from her dream. Her breathing was heavy and she was sweating from her entire body. Her room was lit by the light of the morning entering from her windows. She began to calm down slowly and remember that it was only dream. And yet it all seemed so real. She heard a knock on her door. "Come in" she said.

The door opened and Missandei walked in. She stopped when she saw the state Daenerys was in. "Are you alright my Queen?"

Daenerys nodded. "Just a bad dream."

"I'll have a bath drawn for you, your Grace." Missandei left her to go get what she needed.

It was later that Missandei was helping her bathe in the warm water, cleaning her body of the sweat. "What did you dream about?" She asked.

Daenerys wanted to tell her, but when she tried to recall what she saw, she couldn't remember all of it. The only thing she could remember was the feeling of the man's hand. It was warm and soft. "I don't remember."

* * *

A week had past since she had her dream and Daenerys had too many things on her mind at the time. She needed to take a break and collect herself. Being with her dragons was one of the few things that gave Daenerys a peace of mind. She sat in the fields outside Dragonstone watching Rheagal and Viserion flying out over the horizon while Drogon was curled up behind her, resting. The winds were cold and came from the north. Even though she was thousands of miles away from the North, she finally accepted that the Starks were always right. Winter is coming.

Daenerys was thinking about her uncle Aemon's promise in his letter to her.  _'You will not be alone, there is another who has the blood of the dragon.'_ She couldn't imagine who or where they were. Could it be a surviving descendant of the line of Blackfyre, or one of the other Targaryen branches that were wiped out? Everyday since she received the letter, there has been a burning desire within her to find her last remaining kin. But, she had to focus on the wars to come and prepare herself to meet Jon Snow if he accepted her invitation. Today was the day Varys would be able to enlighten her on the situation in the North. She felt Drogon lift his head and look over to Missandei as she approached her. He snorted and rested his head back to the ground, not giving a care about her. Daenerys stood up as soon as Missandei reached her and brushed off some grass on her robes.

"Your Grace," she said, "Lord Varys requests your presence at the Painted Table."

 _'Finally,'_  Daenerys thought as she began walking with Missandei to the castle. It took quite a while, but when they reached the Painted Table, Varys and Tyrion were already seated. "What did your little birds sing to you?"

Varys didn't reply immediately, as if he was nervous about what he had to say. "They confirmed that Jon Snow is King in the North. He leads the Northern Lords, the Wildings, and the Knights of the Vale. He was named the new Lord of the Dreadfort and his sister Sansa Stark is the acting Lady of Winterfell while their brother Rickon Stark recovers from injuries he took at the Battle of the Bastards."

Tyrion was the one who was most surprised than anyone else. "Bit ironic isn't it?" He quipped. Everyone turned their gaze to him as he explained, "Ramsay Bolton rose to be the Lord of Winterfell through fear, but Jon Snow rose to be the King in the North through the loyalty of the other lords. Just proves that there's more to bastards than we estimate. He's the greatest of them all."

Daenerys was slightly impressed at that, but not enough for her to care that much. Varys however, wasn't finished. "There is something else, your Grace." Daenerys turned her gaze back Varys waiting for him to speak. He took a moment to take in a deep breath before saying something that shocked them all. "My spies informed me that Jon Snow is in possession of two dragons." Tyrion spat his wine he was sipping back into his cup while Daenerys and Missandei were speechless. "Unfortunately, they still have not heard the whispers of how he obtained them, only that when the battle seemed lost, they flew in from the north and set fire to the Bolton soldiers. The only one they approach is him."

The line of the letter repeated in her mind over and over.  _'You will not be alone, you will not be alone, you are not alone.'_

Daenerys started to fall backwards from shock, but Missandei was able to catch her. "Your Grace!" She slowly sat Daenerys down on the floor and knelt down to her as Tyrion and Varys both rose from their seats. "Are you alright?"

She wasn't. Her head was spinning at the thought of what she had just heard.  _'Jon Snow, a bastard of the North. The King in the North.'_  She felt light headed before everything became dark. In the darkness, she could hear someone singing a song. It was a man. His voice was rough and deep, but the song was beautiful to hear.

_'Though the winds of winter blow_

_They will never scare the crow_

_For when the king comes striking down_

_Our steel will break his crown_

_And then the skies will fill with light_

_Our brothers have won the fight_

_And then the one who was lost shall win_

_And the greatest of ages shall begin_

_The wolves will howl and the dragons cry_

_Through fire and ice, we will never die.'_

Daenerys woke up in her bed. She was surrounded by Tryion, Missandei, and Varys. "Your Grace," Missandei spoke quietly, "are you feeling any better?"

She was actually, but she was still concerned with this new revelation. She needed counsil, and none of them could give it to her since she was the only one who knew what she did. But that was about to change. "Lord Tyrion," she called.

"Yes Daenerys?"

"In my trunk over by the corner is a small box. Inside you will find a letter. Would you bring it to me?"

"Of course." Tyrion walked over to the trunk and opened it. He dug around inside until he finally pulled out a small wooden box. He opened the lid and removed the letter from inside and set it back in the trunk. He walked over to Daenerys, handing it to her.

She shook her head, "I want you to read it with Varys and Missandei."

Tyrion looked over at them and back to her, puzzled. He walked over to them and they hunched over to see what the letter said. Daenerys could tell when they read what was at the bottom. When they finished, Tyrion was the only one who wasn't speechless. "He never ceases to amaze me."

Daenerys couldn't help but slightly regret revealing what she knew to them. "What should I do?" She needed someone to answer her because she really didn't know what to do.

"Nothing" Tyrion replied. Varys and Missendei were surprised at that suggestion.

"Nothing? Why should I do nothing?"

"Forgive me, you Grace, I should clarify what I meant. Do not tell him about this until you think you should."

"And why would I think not to? He's my only kin left in the world."

"I know, but until we read this, we were not sure of Jon Snow's intentions for the North. We still aren't. revealing this to him might change those intentions and who he's aiming to be. I like him as a person. He's as honorable as his father. Let him show you who he is, before you tell him who he is. Get a better perspective on him first, and in due time you tell him."

"What if he doesn't decide to come meet with me?"

"He already has. While you were passed out, we received a raven from him. He's agreed to meet with you. But when he arrives, do not treat him as your blood. Treat him as Jon Snow, the King in the North who will bend the knee. Let him see who you are as well. Daenerys Targaryen, the rightful Queen."

Daenerys took a few deep breathes before responding. "How long until he arrives?"

Tyrion looked over to Varys who gave the answer. "He'll arrive in a fortnight, your Grace."

"Then we'd better prepare ourselves for him."


	17. Jon VII

Jon

"This message was sent to me by Samwell Tarly" Jon held up the scroll he received to show the other lords. "He was my brother at the Night's Watch, a man I trust as much as anyone in this world. He's discovered proof that Dragonstone sits on a mountain of dragonglass." Jon heard some positive reactions as he handed to scroll to Lord Glover. He held up a different scroll he had in his other hand "I received this a few days ago, from Dragonstone. It was sent to me by Tyrion Lannister." This caused some discontent between all of the lords. "He is now Hand of the Queen to Daenerys Targaryen. She intends to take the Iron Throne from Cersei Lannister, she has a powerful army at her back, and from what this message has said… three dragons." The lords continued to mutter in discontent. They had no problem with Jon's dragons, but dragons under the control of a Targaryen were very dangerous. "Lord Tyrion has invited me to Dragonstone, to meet with Daenerys, and I'm going to accept." Jon turned to Sansa when he said that and saw that she looked more upset than any of the other lords were. There was a brief uproar before Jon had hushed them. "We need this dragonglass, my lords! We know that dragonglass can destroy both White Walkers and their army. We need to mine it and turn it into weapons." Jon could see most of the lords were against this still. "But more importantly, we need allies! The Night King's army grows larger by the day. We can't defeat them on our own, we don't have the numbers and my dragons aren't large enough to withstand most attacks. Daenerys has her own army and her dragons are far larger than mine! I need to try and persuade her to fight with us. Ser Davos and I will ride for White Harbor tomorrow, then sail for Dragonstone."

"Have you forgotten what happened to our Grandfather?" Sansa exclaimed. "The Mad King invited him into King's Landing and roasted him alive."

"I know that."

"She's hear to reclaim the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms. The North is one of those seven kingdoms. This isn't an invitation, it's a trap."

"It could be, but I don't believe Tyrion would do that. You know him, he's a good man."

Lord Royce's voice rose as he stood up from behind him. "Your Grace, with respect, I must agree with Lady Sansa. I remember the Mad King all too well. A Targaryen cannot be trusted, nor can a Lannister."

Lord Glover stood up when Lord Royce sat down. "We called your brother king, and then he rode south and lost his kingdom."

"Winter is here, your Grace." Jon turned around to face Lady Mormont. "We need the King in the North, in the North!" There was much agreement with what she said.

Jon waited for her and Lord Glover to be seated before giving his response. "You all crowned me your king. I never wanted it, I never asked for it, But I accepted it because the North is my home. It's part of me and I will never stop fighting for it, no matter the odds. But the odds are against us." It was a hard truth that Jon had to say. They couldn't win the war without more help. "None of you have seen the Army of the Dead, none of you. We can never hope to defeat them alone. We need allies, powerful allies. I know it's a risk, but I have to take it."

Sansa stood up, raising her voice again. "Then send an emissary, don't go yourself!"

"Daenerys is a Queen, only a King can convince her to help us."

"You're abandoning your home! You're abandoning your people!"

Jon was prepared for that already. "I'm leaving both in good hands."

"Who's?"

"Yours." The anger on Sansa's face was replaced with surprise. "You're my sister, you're the Lady of Winterfell. Until I return, the North is yours." There was neither anger nor acceptance amongst the other lord and ladies, only silence. That was the best Jon would get from this. Without saying anything, he nodded his head at her as if asking  _'can I trust you?'_ She nodded back, giving him the reassurance he needed from her.

* * *

Jon was sitting next to Rickon's bed, telling him that he was leaving and that he would be saying farewell soon. Rickon was finally well enough that he could sit up easier and move better. "I'm not sure how long I'll be gone for, but I promise you that I will return."

"I wish you wouldn't leave. Maester Luwin once told me and Bran that Starks never fair well when they travel south."

"Then it's a good thing I'm a bastard."

"Will you bring Ghost with you?" Ghost was lying down at the foot of the bed. His head rose up when he heard his name.

"If brought him with me, who would be here to protect you?"

Rickon looked discouraged when Jon asked him that. "Osha thought she could protect me when the Umbers turned on us. Now she's dead. I don't want you die."

Jon never met the Wildling named Osha, he was only told about her in previous visits to Rickon. "I'm sorry about what happened to her, but Ramsay is dead. The Bolton men were all prepared to kill you, but now they're gone, and the Stark men are all prepared to protect you just as much as Ghost will." Jon stood up and walked to the door. He wasn't leaving, but he did stick his head out the doorway and call for a guard that accompanied him. The guard then handed a package wrapped in cloth over to him. Jon returned to Rickon's side and began to unwrap the cloth. "And soon enough, they won't have to." Jon unveiled the object and revealed it to be a longsword in a black scabbard. The top half of the scabbard was wrapped in dark brown leather straps above the black covering. On the bottom half was the Stark Direwolf sigil stamped into the black leather. The design of the sword was the same as their father's longsword. "I gave Arya her first sword before I left for Castle Black, and now I'm giving you your first sword before I leave for Dragonstone." Jon held the handle towards Rickon right arm, waiting for him to grab it.

Rickon's fingers wrapped around the wood of the handle and he pulled the blade out of the scabbard, Jon pulling backwards to give him more room. It was very heavy and Rickon could only hold it still, but he was able to raise it in front of him. The sword was nearly identical from what Rickon remembered. The only difference was the rise on the hilt wasn't as long. "It's amazing." Rickon kept looking at the sword in wonder and amazement.

"I know you're not strong enough to wield it yet, but with your size and enough practice, you'll be swinging it in no time." Jon held the scabbard out to Rickon as the blade was returned to the scabbard. Jon placed the sword up against Rickon's bed post and knelt down next to his bed near him. "We will survive the war to come, little brother." Jon carefully embraced his brother being cautious of his injury. He held him for a long moment before releasing him and giving his little brother one last smile before he left the room. He had someone he had to see before he left.

* * *

Jon had just left the crypts when all of the sudden Ygris and Lyarras flew down into the courtyard he was in. The people around them backed away and the horses began to fuss, still not used to their presence, as the two dragons approached him. Jon seemed to calm down when he saw them and began to pet at their heads. He knelt down to them and they seemed to give him questioning eyes. "I promised you two that I wouldn't abandon you ever again, but I can't bring you with me. I'm not sure how you would react around other dragons, but the ones I'm going to see are near ten times the size of you. So instead I need you two to do something important for me." They both screeched quietly as if asking him what. "Keep my family safe." Jon stood up and his dragons both returned to the sky.

By this time, Davos and his guards were waiting for him to leave Winterfell with them. Before Jon mounted his horse, he was stopped by somebody calling out to him. "You really are your father's son." The voice sounded much like Mance Rayder's, but not as old.

Jon turned around and saw an older lord approaching him. He had short brown hair and a thick beard that was starting to gray. He wore dark orange leathers underneath his heavy brown cloak. At the base of his neck was a metal lizard lion, the lord's sigil. "Lord Howland of House Reed."

"King Jon Snow of House Stark, or have you chosen to have your own name now that you're the Lord of the Dreadfort?"

"I'll decide that if we win the war and still breathe to care for such things." Jon recalled the first words Lord Reed said to him. "If I may ask, how is talking with my dragons remind you of Ned Stark?"

Lord Reed chuckled and stepped closer to Jon "I can tell you don't want to leave Winterfell. You don't want to leave the North and neither do the other lords. So why are you going?"

"Because I have to."

"No, you don't, you're the King, you can choose whether or not to stay or to go, so why are you going?"

Lord Reed was really challenging Jon, just like when Mance Rayder asked why he wanted to be part of the Free Folk. "We've already lost so many lives in the last war. The Battle of the Bastards took the lives of a great part of the North's fighting strength. If we do win the war by ourselves, by some sheer miracle of a chance, we can't afford to face an army just as powerful from the south. I'm tired of all the death, Lord Reed. I'm tired of all the fighting people do for a fucking chair of swords. I'm going down to Dragonstone to make sure that won't happen. Because it's the right thing to do and that's all the reason I need."

Lord Reed seemed impressed with his answer. "The other lords think your heading to your death, but I feel we'll be surprised."

Jon was leaving with the knowledge that this could be the last time he sets foot in Winterfell. But he needed to do this, if not for him, for them. "I hope I am as well."

Lord Reed smiled when Jon spoke to him. "It's been too long since I saw you last. To see what you have become is amazing."

"Forgive my lord, but I can't recall if we have ever met at all."

"The first day I met you was also the day Ned Stark met you. And now here you are, a King of direwolves and dragons." Lord Reed looked up at the dragons circling overhead when he said that. He looked back at Jon, still having a smile on his face. "Your mother would have been proud of you."

This froze Jon. Did Lord Howland know her? Did he ever meet her or see her? He then realized what he just said, 'would have'. "She's dead?" Jon asked, looking to the ground.

The smile fell from Lord Howland's face. "She died shortly after you were born. I never saw her when she did, but I did know her."

Jon had so many questions, but he turned his gaze to Davos and saw him waiting for him. Jon couldn't help but laugh a little. He looked up at Lord Howland returning a smile. "I'm afraid if I might never leave if we continued to talk. There are so many things I want to know, but I need to go now."

Lord Howland chuckled and placed an arm on Jon's shoulder. "The next we see each other, we'll talk about your mother."

Jon felt a bit scared when he heard that. Those were the last words his father said to him. "I look forward to it, my lord."

Lord Reed removed his arm and bowed his head. "As do I, my King."

Jon mounted his horse and made his way to the gate. Before he left, he could see Sansa watching from a balcony above him. He waved his hand to her and she waved back as he and his men galloped out of Winterfell.

* * *

The journey to White Harbor was cold and dreary. When Jon was a boy, the snows that fell over Winterfell made him and his siblings happy. They would spend hours playing in the snow each day. But now they had all grown up. Instead of wanting to play in the snow, Jon wanted to survive it. The first night that came, Jon and his company had made it to Castle Cerwyn where they would spend the night before continuing tomorrow at first light. If their horses weren't the bred in the North, it would have taken them days longer to reach the White Harbor than they would be.

Jon was in the castle's great hall, eating venison with Davos. He was in the middle of chewing a piece of his food when he was interrupted by the Onion Knight. "Who was the lord you spoke to before we left?"

Jon could tell that Davos was only asking because he had nothing else to do. He swallowed his food before answering "Lord Howland of House Reed."

"What was he talking to you about? Don't go to your death?"

"Actually, I think he was saying the opposite."

Davos brought a mug full of ale to his lips and took a long drink. He brought the mug down and wiped his beard with his sleeve. "First lord I know of that wants you to meet the Dragon Queen."

"I don't think he wanted me to go, I feel like he knew I had to."

"I noticed you seemed a bit distraught at something he said."

Jon didn't answer immediately. He grabbed his own ale and took a very long swig of it. He practically slammed his mug on the table when he finished. "I'll tell you when we get to Dragonstone."


	18. Sansa III

Sansa

Looking at the sword that leaned up against Rickon's bed made Sansa feel happy. It looked just like the one her father had. Jon was doing his best to keep their spirits high even when he wasn't there. Sansa watched as Rickon was attempting to stand up from his bed on his own. It seemed that his legs were fine, but the movement of his upper body seemed to be what was causing him strain. Eventually, he managed to get up, but the feeling of accomplishment felt drown by the amount of groaning he did.

"How do you feel?" She asked, ready to jump at him if anything happened.

"It feels better, but it hurts when my left shoulder moves anywhere."

"You could wear a sling to keep your arm from swaying." Rickon had insisted on getting out of bed and walking around Winterfell with her. "Rickon I know you're getting stronger, but you shouldn't be out of bed for at least another fortnight."

Rickon looked over her, upset. "I've been in a cell for months until you and Jon took back Winterfell. I've been stuck in this room for weeks, and I'm sick and tired of being confined. I just want to walk around a bit and get some fresh air." He picked up a brown leather tunic and attempted to put it on over his shirt. Before he could even get one arm in, he winced back feeling pain. He looked over to his sister, seeming disappointed. "Can you help me please?"

Sansa smiled as she walked over to Rickon and slipped his right arm inside the tunic and slowly maneuvered the other side onto his body. She then did the laces and secured it snuggly on him. "Lift up your legs while I get your boots. Rickon put his right arm on her to steady himself as she slipped each boot onto his feet. She then did his gloves, before calling for Maester Wolkan. "Could you get us an arm sling maester?"

"Yes, my Lady, I'll only be a minute." Maester Wolkan darted out of the room and momentarily came back with a proper sling. Sansa allowed the maester to dress it on Rickon since she did not know the proper way to do it.

"And now, for the finishing touch." Sansa walked over to her regular chair and picked up the finished cloak for Rickon. She lifted it up high and let the cloak fly over his back as the pelt fell onto his shoulders. She carefully did the straps and took a few steps back to look at him. She couldn't help but smile at her little brother. "If you had a beard, you'd look just like father." Rickon laughed with her as they walked out of Rickon's room.

Once they were outside, Sansa watched Rickon take it a deep breath and exhaling the Northern air. "It feels like home." There was a light snowfall around them that was very comforting.

"Yes, it does." As they walked through the areas of Winterfell, followed closely by Ghost, they caught the eyes of many of the residents staring at them. Most of them came from Winter Town while others were asked to be here by their lords. Sansa could feel the happiness that the Starks seemed to give to the elderly ones who saw them. It made her feel warm when she remembered that this was what Winterfell used to be.

"Where are the dragons?" Rickon asked "I wanted to see them."

"They've gone off to hunt I think. They haven't been sticking close to Winterfell since Jon left."

Sansa could tell Rickon was disappointed. He'd only caught glimpses of them through his window. Seeing them up close would be difficult. The dragons usually kept to themselves when they weren't with Jon. She had only touched them once and they seemed to like her.

One of the Stark guards approached the two of them, interrupting there walk. "Lady Sansa," The guard suddenly noticed Rickon next her and almost panicked for not noticing him earlier, "Lord Rickon, your presence is requested by Maester Wolkan, Lord Royce, and Lord Baelish."

"Thankyou, we'll be joining them shortly."

"We?" Rickon asked.

"If you're going to be Lord of Winterfell someday, you'll need to learn responsibilities that go with it." They both followed the guard up to the balconies where the other lords and maester were waiting for them. The guard left them as soon as they reached the lords.

Littlefinger was the first to say something, as he always was. "Lady Sansa, Lord Rickon, it's wonderful to see you recovering so quickly."

"Thank you, Lord Balish."

"Baelish" he corrected with an amused smirk on his face. He turned his gaze to Sansa, "We're now just receiving the sums of wheat the North has farmed over the summer." Littlefinger turned his gaze to the courtyard, gesturing the others to look as well. There were many carts filled with wheat entering into the castle.

"How much do we have?" Sansa inquired.

"Four thousand bushels, my lady" Maester Wolkan answered.

"What does that mean?"

Lord Royce seemed to know the numbers better as he was the one who answered. "For the current occupants of the castle, it's enough food for a year, perhaps more."

Sansa began to walk along the balcony with Rickon and the other lords. She made sure was listening attentively. "And what's the longest winter in the past hundred years?"

"I'm not entirely certain," Maester Wolkan said, "I'll check Maester Luwin's records. He kept a copy of every raven scroll."

They were slowly making their way down the stairs, being cautious for Rickon, "you're telling me we don't have enough food, especially not if the armies of the North come back to defend Winterfell."

Maester Wolkan seemed hesitant to confirm her statement. "No, my lady, most likely not."

"Then we must prepare for that eventuality. Whatever direction the threat comes from, this is the best place to be. We need to start building up our grain stores with regular shipments from every keep in the North. If we don't use it by winters end, we 'll give it back to them. But if the entire North has to flee to Winterfell, then they won't have time to bring wagon loads of grain with them."

"Very wise my lady." Lord Royce commented.

"Maester Wolkan will you see to that?" The maester bowed his head and departed from their group as the entered the armorers corner of the castle. Sansa stopped and watched a smith hammering down a steel breastplate and had a realization. "Are they covering those breastplates in leather?"

"No, my lady." Lord Royce said.

"Shouldn't they be? Once the real cold comes?"

"They should indeed, pardon me, my lady." Lord Royce broke off from the four of them and approached the smiths as they continued to walk around the castle.

Rickon tugged on Sansa's cloak to get her attention. "Can I stay with Lord Royce? I wan to watch the smiths make the armor."

She was hesitant at first, but then she remembered that Rickon was still only a boy. "Just stay with him at all times until I'm done, alright?"

Rickon smiled at her and walked with Ghost back to the smiths and Lord Royce. The only one left with her was unfortunately Littlefinger. "Command suits you. The Northerners are all facing north, worried about the threat from beyond the Wall."

"So they should be."

"I know Cersei better than anyone here," Sansa always felt like Littlefinger was always impressed with himself with everything he said, yet he didn't spend years at a time with her watching his every move. "If you turn you back at her-"

"You don't know Cersei better than anyone here."

"I only meant to say-"

"That the woman who murdered my father, mother, and brother is dangerous? Thank you for your wise counsel." She was tired of him constantly trying to prod at her with his words.

Littlefinger did seem a bit irritated for a moment, but his composure didn't break. "One of two things will happen. Either the dead will defeat the living in which case, all our troubles come to an end." He stepped in front of her to try and raise the value of the point he was trying to get across. "Or life will win out. And what then? Don't fight in the north, or the south. Fight every battle, everywhere, always, in your mind. Everyone is your enemy, everyone is your friend. Every possible series of events is happening, all at once." Sansa seemed to understand little of what he said, but more of how Littlefinger played the game. "Live that way, and nothing will surprise you. Everything that happens will be something that you see before."

Their conversation was broken by a guard running towards them. "Lady Sansa!" he called out. She was startled when he addressed her. "At the gate."

Sansa looked back at Littlefinger, wishing she hadn't when she saw a small smile on his face, before she left with the guard. As they approached the gates, Sansa noticed many people were crowding around a wagon that had just entered. She made her way around to the back and lost all the air in her lungs when she saw who was in it. He looked so different, but she recognized Bran immediately. His gaze turned at her and he seemed to be unsurprised to see her. She couldn't seem to say anything, she was lost for words. For a brief moment, she could see a smile come upon him, but it faded away as soon as it appeared.

"Hello Sansa." To hear his voice made her eyes begin to tear up. She couldn't help but jump up to him and hug him. She didn't care if people could see her crying. She was happy and didn't want anyone to take that away from her.

"Bran!" Rickon voices sounded behind them as he immediately climbed onto the wagon carefully and hugged his brother. "I knew you'd come back to us." They let of Bran and Rickon looked over to a girl Sansa didn't know. She was dressed like a Wildling, but she didn't look like one. "Meera!" Rickon slowly climbed off and quickly went to hug her as well.

"Hello Rickon." She whispered out to him.

"Meera!" a low voice bellowed out. Sansa looked over looked over to one of the lords, shoving people aside as he approached the wagon. As soon as he made it to the girl, Rickon let go of her as the lord embraced her.

"Father," she seemed to be on the verge of tears. "Jojen, he-"

"It's alright Meera, Jojen told me he wouldn't be coming home when you both left. He knew what he was getting into." He looked down at her, his face was both sad and happy. "I couldn't be any prouder of you than I am now."

"Howland Reed" Bran softly spoke. The lord looked up from his daughter and to Bran. "We have a lot to talk about."

* * *

Sansa had arranged for Bran and Meera to have better clothes brought to them. The cloaks of rabbit furs looked warm, but not warm enough. Bran wanted to be brought next to the weirwood tree in the Godswood, and Meera seemed to accompany him wherever he went. They were joined by Rickon, before Sansa had asked Meera to give them some time alone.

Sansa was sitting down with Rickon while Bran sat up against the weirwood tree. "I wish Jon were here." She announced openly.

"Yes, I need to speak to him." She wasn't expecting that kind of reaction from him. But now that she looked at him, she could see that he didn't really react to anything. He seemed to be staring out into the distance as if something was there.

Rickon broke the silence that seemed to follow. "Bran, you're the older brother, and you're the next son after Robb." Bran gaze finally turned to them. "You're the Lord of Winterfell now."

"I can neve be Lord of Winterfell," he said "I can never be lord of anything, I'm the Three Eyed Raven."

"I thought the Three Eyed Raven was beyond the Wall."

"He was, he died, and now I'm what he was."

Sansa looked at the two of them, very confused. "I don't know who that is."

"It's difficult to explain."

"Try, please, for me."

"The Three Eyed Raven isn't really a person, it's a gift. I can see everything. Everything that's ever happened. Everything that's happening right now. It's all pieces now, fragments. I need to learn to see better. When the Long Night comes again, I need to be ready."

There was screech coming above them all. The dragons had flown down into the Godswood. They began to approach Bran, seeming curious. Sansa only saw them get close to Jon the way they were now.

"Ygris and Lyarras" Bran said. The two dragons seemed to cry out to him in excitement when he said their names. He turned his head to Rickon, "you wanted to see them today, now's your chance. They won't hurt you."

Rickon looked at them nervously. Sansa knew all to well the excitement you have when you want to do something and then the fear of actually doing it. The dragons slowly made their way to Rickon, quietly screeching at him. He extended his hand ad his fingers brushed against Lyarras' snout. He let out a small laugh of joy as he continued to pet the blue dragon. "They're bigger than they looked from my window."

"They are bigger" Bran said. "They growing at a fast rate. In a few more months, they'll be ridable. It's the magic that's doing it."

"What?" Sansa asked.

"Dragons feed on magic as well as food. The dragons of Valyria were so large because all the magic that the Valyrians possessed. There isn't as much of it in the North, but the Night King seems to give off some himself. And the weirwood trees contain their own form of it. The Children of the Forest put it there when they carved the faces into them."

"How do you know all this?"

"The Three Eyed Raven showed me when the dragons were born."

Sansa remembered that Rickon said that there was a Three Eyed Raven beyond the wall. "The one before you?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I told you it's difficult to explain."

"Bran, I-"

"I'm sorry for all that's happened to you. I'm sorry it had to happen here, in our home." Sansa fell silent. How did he know of her time here when the Boltons ruled? She didn't tell him about it yet. "It was so beautiful that night. Snow falling, just like now." Sansa was starting to feel scared. "And you were so beautiful, in your white wedding dress." She never told anyone the details of the wedding. Just thinking about that night made her uneasy.

"I have to go back inside, Bran." Sansa stood up as quick as she could, not wanting to hear anymore of what he would say to prove his point.

"I'll stay a bit longer."

"I'll stay with him." Rickon said.

Sansa was already gone from them. The things that happened to her, they made feels sick in her stomach. She wanted to forget everything about that dreadful night.


	19. Daeneys III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been rewritten as of 6/28/2018

Daenerys

The Stark ship was far off in the distance. The row boat had just made it ashore and the occupants were being greeted by Tyrion and Missandei. From atop of the balconies of Dragonstone, Daenerys could practically see the whole island. She could see the company walking up the many steps of Dragonstone, one of the few things she disliked about the castle. Drogon had all the sudden decide to fly over them as if he was trying to show off. She could see her guests had all ducked down, while her friends were unaffected. Daenerys decided that now was the time to be ready and made her way to the throne room.

The throne of Dragonstone was beautiful the way it was carved into the formation of the rocks that protruded the floor. From what she had heard about the Iron Throne, it was forged to be uncomfortable, the same could not be said about this one though. She sat down in her lean posture, making sure her regal mask was on.  _'Show him who you are'_  she repeated in her mind before the doors swung open.

Missandei and Tyrion entered and quickly made their way to their designated spots in the room. Tyrion off the steps to her right, and Missandei next to her on the left. They were soon followed by two men. One of them was young and the other was old. The young man wore a black armor and a steel gorget that had two direwolf heads facing each other on the front. He had a long black hair that was tied and a very short beard. He wasn't bad on the eyes at all.  _'Jon Snow'_  she thought. The man behind him was much older, wearing simpler clothes. They both approached and stopped as soon as Missandei began her introduction.

"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. Rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains." Daenerys hoped she wouldn't gain anymore titles during conquest of Westeros. What she had already was an earful. She watched as the two men looked at each other, unsure of what they were supposed to say.

The older man finally said his introduction. "This is Jon Snow."

 _'Just Jon Snow?'_  She thought as she took another good look at him.

Jon Snow seemed a bit embarrassed at the moment as the older man followed his name up. "He's King in the North." She kept herself from being amused. They obviously didn't plan on this. That, or Northerners were very humble. She doubted it was the second reason.

_‘This will be interesting.’_

* * *

 

After what could be called a heated first introduction, Daenerys met with Tyrion in her solar after Varys reported the destruction of the Greyjoy fleet. She motioned for him to sit at a small table as she retrieved a pair of silver chalices and some wine that was sitting on her nightstand next to her bed. She handed a chalice to Tyrion and poured him some of the wine, a Dornish red. He didn't even wait for her to fill her chalice. "I can't believe I forgot that there were a thousand other ships out there." he said placing his empty chalice on the table.

Daenerys only drank a small bit of her wine at time. She only planned on only having the one serving. "The faults not all yours. I was expecting him to come to us first and try to sway me to allying with him instead of Yara."

"The meeting with the King in the North could've been better."

"I don't think so. I had my expectations of him higher than they should have been. I guess I expected him to be more like me for having the blood of the dragon, but I was wrong. He's more like the Blackfyres. All them rebellious and delusional."

"But you remained as we advised you to be and treated Jon Snow as expected. Do you think things would have reached better resolve if you spoke to him as your own kin?”

Tyrion did have point. Despite what she knew about Jon Snow and whether the man knew it himself or not, it would not have changed the outcome of that meeting. “I will admit, he is loyal to his people, but even honorable men can lie to get what they desire. But maybe we have been going about our understanding of him the wrong way.”

“What do you mean?”

“The letter from my uncle said that there was one more with the blood of the dragon. It is undoubtedly Jon Snow, but perhaps it might not be the kind we thought of. He may be kin, but how close is he to me? For all I know he could be the bastard of a Valyrian ancestor with barely a drop of the ancient blood in him.”

“But given that he has two dragons under his wing… or in his care, I think it is safe to say that it is more. He could be like you said, a Blackfyre decendant. But the Blackfyres had the Targaryen blood as much as you have it. They just didn’t inherit the name, but instead a sword. Jon Snow has a Valyrian Sword, or had one, now that we’ve confiscated it, but unlike the Blackfyres he has dragons.”

“And that’s supposed to convince me that he won’t be like Daemon Blackfyre or his spawn?”

“forgive me for remining you of this, but you are in fact the daughter of one of the most Tyrannical Kings westeros has ever known.” The truth of that hurt to hear after years of being told otherwise by Viserys and his supporters. “Yet here you are,the opposite of what everyone thinks you are to be. Granted there is a bit of a fire in you…”

Daenerys glared at Tyrion as she sipped more of her wine.

“But you are learning to keep it from spreading out of control. You have only just met the King in the North, maybe tonight we can share supper with him and talk as regular people instead of those of the court.”

Regardless of Tyrion’s council, Daenerys remained unconvinced. But as she thought over what words were exchanged, she found herself coming back to what Jon Snow had said. He didn’t know her and she only knew whispers of him. Torrhen Stark Bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror only after knowing of the catastrophic battles that oocured where he and his sister wives went. If perhaps Jon Snow learned of the good she has done in Essos, maybe that could influence him to rethink his decision.

Daenerys finished her wine as soon as Tyrion refilled his cup. "You believe all that nonsense about the Army of the Dead?"

"I don’t think he was lying about what he said. When I first visited the Wall, I spoke with Lord Commander Mormont and your uncle. They told me about reports of Wildlings abandoning their villages and fleeing south in numbers greater than the last thousand years. They said it was because of the White Walkers, and a deserter of the Watch claimed that he saw them right till the moment Ned Stark took his head."

If Tyrion said that her late uncle reported the same thing, then she was willing to be intrigued by the matter, but it wasn’t enough for her to believe it. "And now you believe what they said?" Tyrion finished his wine and placed his cup back on the table before leaving his seat.

"May I be excused, your grace?"

"Where are you going?"

"To try and make up for our loss."

"I'll be at the Painted Table if you need me," she told him. Before he left though, Daenerys had one more question for her Hand. “Who is Jon Snow’s mother?”

“That, I do not know and neither does our master of Whispers. I’ve heard a rumor that he was the son of a lady from House Dayne, but that was proven to be false seeing as she sired a stillborn girl. But I do know that despite having the name Snow, he wasn’t born in the North. It seems No one but Ned Stark knows anything about his mother, and we all know how fruitless it is to ask dead men questions.” He bowed his head and left her to herself. She set her chalice next to Tyrion's and left her room.

* * *

 

 

Jon

 

“Well, it could have been worse but it could have gone better.” Davos said as he stood by the window sill of the room they were provided with. Jon was leaned forward against a wall while resting his head on his arm.

“What made you think that?” Jon asked sarcastically. The only thing productive about that entire meeting was learning how full of herself the Targaryen Queen was. How many titles can one person have in her name?

Ser Davos seemed to humor him. “Well we’re not burn to ashes right now, but we practicaly shit on our first meeting with the most powerful woman in the world. I know it’s not your strongest trait, but maybe you should try and be more diplomatic.”

“Diplomatic? I tried that with the wildlings and they only reason most of them came south was because the dead attack us.”

“But you tried nonetheless. If I may be so bold, maybe you should try and discuss things with her on a less serious note.”

Jon turned to look at him curiously. “Do you really think that she would want to speak of something else than what just happened?”

“You both have dragons, don’t ya? That’s a common ground no one else has in the world. But for seven hells find something you can talk about, otherwise we’ll have another Queen and her armies to worry about along with three enormous dragons.”

Jon sighed and turned back to the wall. This did not go at all as he imagined. Then again, he wasn’t sure how he imagined it to go. He half expected to be burned alive by the dragons and Ygris and Lyarras fallen under some Targaryen spell of the Queen’s, but one thing was for certain he knew that Daenerys Targaryen was here to take back all the Kingdoms of Westeros and meant to.

Ser Davos cleared his throat. “Regardless of your thoughts, I think we need to decide whether or not to use the time we have here or head back to the North.”

“We need the dragonglass on this island. If we are refused to mine it, then we’ll return North and let Daenerys Targaryen fight her damn war for the throne.”

“And if she wins that war, I don’t think she’ll sit idly by for us to deal with the dead. Either she’ll see them when it’s too late for us or bring war to us before the dead do. Either way, you’ve seemed to anger her by refusing to kneel. I won’t assume anything, but I don’t want to be where those dragons can find me if she turns out to be like her father.”

Jon stood silently and nodded to Ser Davos. “Tell the men to head back to the ship and keep it ready to set sail. We’ll leave in three days if we’re unsuccessful.”

Davos didn’t respond immediately. “There may be a problem with that.” Jon saw him looking out the window and joined him to see what it was. Their ship was gone from where they anchored.

“They took our ship,” Jon stated. His hands balled into fists as he just felt doublecrossed by his honor. He should’ve known that something like this would happen. Daenerys Targaryen was the daughter of the Mad King after all. “I need some air.” He grabbed his cloak and left the room, ignoring the Dothraki standing guard outside.


	20. Daenerys IV

Daenarys

"Is there anything your little birds have told you about the King in the North that I don't know of yet?" Daenerys asked her Master of Whispers.

"They call him the White Wolf and the Winter Dragon. His brother, Rickon, named him the new Lord of the Dreadfort, and they say he's the greatest swordsman since Arthur Dayne."

"He could've used those when he was introduced," she jested. "What about his dragons?"

"They say he calls them his daughters. One white named Ygris, and the other blue named Lyarras."

Daenerys cracked a smile hearing the dragons being called 'his daughters', "he mustn't have known dragons have no gender."

"Something that puzzles me is their size, your grace."

"What about them?" the smile faded from her lips.

"He's had them for less than a year, yet they're said to be bigger than horses."

This was puzzling. Daenerys had her dragons for nearly three years before they were that size. Her interest in them grew immensely. "How is that possible?"

"I'm afraid my little birds have heard no whispers of answers to that question, but I have a contact in the Citadel who can look into it. You need only to give the order."

"Have him look into it for me, and while he's at it, ask him to inquire about a man stricken with Greyscale name Ser Jorah Mormont." Varys bowed his head and left the room as Tyrion entered. "You weren't gone very long."

He stood at the head of the Painted Table, "I may have found something that could help all of us. After talking with the King in the North, I discovered the soul purpose of why he came here at all. He's here for dragonglass."

"Dragonglass" she confirmed.

"Yes, volcanic glass, obsidian. He says you have a tremendous amount of it here."

"Why are we talking about glass? We just lost two of our allies."

"Which is why I was speaking to Jon Snow, a potential ally."

It sounded ridiculous, then again, the only men of the Night's Watch whom she had ever met so far seemed to be for ridiculous, yet good reasons. "And what does the King in the North want with dragonglass?"

"Apparently it can be turned into weapons that kill White Walkers and their foot soldiers," Tyrion just remembered that they were already dead, "or stop them, destroy them, unsure about the nomenclature."

"And what do think about the Army of the Dead and White Walkers?" She began to make her way towards him. "You told me you believed in them, but not what you think of them."

"I wish that they were what I had hoped for when I was first told about them. Grumpkins and Snarks I said. I'd very much like to believe that Jon Snow is wrong, but a wise man once said that you should never believe a thing simply because you want to believe it."

Those words seemed a bit too convenient to hear. "Which wise man said this?"

Tyrion looked like he was caught off guard when she asked him. "I don't remember."

She felt disappointed in him for doing that. "Are you trying to present your own statements as ancient wisdom?"

"I would never do that… to you." Daenerys was upset, but he was right. She began to slowly walk to the hearth of the room. "The reason I believe Jon Snow is because he's here. All of his advisors would have told him not to come, I would have told him not to come, and he's here anyway. Let him mine the dragonglass. If he's wrong its worthless. You didn't even know it was here, it's nothing to you. Give him something by giving him nothing. Take a step towards a more productive relationship. Keep him occupied, while we focus on the task at hand."

Daenerys was going over everything Ser Davos said about him before he was cut off. "What was that Ser Davos said, about taking a knife in the heart for his people? Did you notice that?"

"You must allow them their flights are fancy, it's dreary in the North."

Daenerys needed a moment to decide on this. She poured herself out to Jon Snow, yet all he did was stand there and let someone else tell her what he's done. "I'm going down to the steps, send Jon Snow to meet me there." Tyrion bowed his head and departed. Daenerys sighed, was she really going to assist a man to fight an army of dead men? White Walkers were just myths and legends. But then again, before her dragons were born, they were also about to become only myths and legends. She would have faith in her Hand and try to be rational.

* * *

On the long steps of Dragonstone, Daenerys calmly watched as Viserion and Rhaegal flew together far away. Drogon had always been more independent and kept to himself. The strong and silent type. Her peace was cut off by a certain Northerner's voice. "Amazing thing to see at that size."

"You named yours Ygris and Lyarras, am I correct?" She turned to face the King in the North.

"Aye, your spies have it correct." He said that with a tone of humor as to not try to be insulting.

Daenerys looked back out to her children and watched them dance "I named them after my brothers, Viserys and Rhaegar. They're both gone now." She looked back at him, trying not to be as regal as she was when they first met. "You lost a brother as well?" Jon nodded quietly. "People thought dragons were gone forever yet here they are. Perhaps we should all be examining what we think we know."

"You've been talking to Tyrion?" He stepped up right next to the railing, watching the dragons.

"He is my Hand."

"He enjoys talking."

"We all enjoy what we're good at."

"I don't."

His statement surprised Daenerys. There's not a swordsman she ever met who didn't enjoy to swordfight. Ser Barristan took pride as a Kingsguard and talked many times of the battles he fought in. He also talked about Rhaegar, and how he didn't like to fight, he liked to sing. Perhaps he did have the blood of the dragon in him, but a kind that her brother had.  _'I've got to find out who his mother is.'_ She couldn't help but just look at him. Something about him seemed familiar, but she couldn't remember. "You know I'm not going to let Cersei stay on the Iron Throne?"

He finally turned away from brooding and faced her. "I never expected that you would."

"And I haven't changed my mind to which kingdoms belong to that throne?"

"I haven't either."

They seemed to just keep going in circles. Daenerys realized that she wouldn't be able to get anywhere else with this unless she did give him something to show good faith. "I will allow you to mine the dragonglass and forge weapons from it. Any resources or men you need, I will provide for you."

He seemed surprised, but also grateful. "Thankyou." She turned back to watch her children, but Jon Snow lingered. "So you believe me then, about the Night King and the Army of the Dead?"

 _'Not yet'_  she thought, she just didn't want to admit it. "You'd better get to work, Jon Snow." Jon began walking back to the castle and Daenerys had to get another look at him. Maybe there was more to him than she was let on to see. There was an easy way to remedy that.

* * *

The hour of twilight was upon the lands. Daenerys sitting by the hearth of her solar as Missandei walked in. "You sent for me, your grace?"

Daenerys stood up from her chair and faced her. "Do you know if Jon Snow has had his supper yet?"

"He has not, your grace."

"Good, invite him and Ser Davos to dine with us tonight."

"At once, your grace." Missandei left immediately and Daenerys followed after her, but made her way to the dining hall instead. Inside was very similar to the throne room, there just wasn't a throne. In the middle of the hall was a large, black, stone table. It was very long and shaped hexagonal so that that only one person could sit at each head of the table.

Daenerys stood next to her seat and waited for Jon Snow to enter. Missandei came through the doors, followed by Tyrion, Varys, Ser Davos, and Jon Snow. He was out of his armor, but what wore under remained. "I'm glad you decided to join us. Please, have a seat." She motioned her hand to the seat next to hers on the left. Jon Snow walked up and stood next to it, waiting for everyone else to find their seats. As soon as they all sat down, Daenerys's servants, some of the Dothraki women, entered the hall with trays of various foods. "I was hoping we could take a break talking about politics and just talk as people" she said to Jon.

A small smile grew on his face as he looked at her. "It would be nice if we could, I never did thank you yet for sending men to the Wall."

Daenerys returned the smile as a plate of food was place before all of them. "I didn't send anyone, I offered those who had nowhere to go somewhere they could. I hope your brother of the watch was pleased."

"Grenn?"

"Yes, forgive me, I had forgotten his name. Did he return safely to Castle Black?"

"He did, and he talked about you quite a bit while he was there."

"What did he say about me? Good things I hope." Hopefully the impression she had left on Grenn was a good one and was spread to others he told.

Jon seemed embarrassed to answer, but he did anyway. "He kept on talking about how he met the most beautiful women in the world. Though he never knew many women to begin with."

Daenerys's brow arched. "You disagree?" She could see Tyrion smirking as he drank some wine.

Jon cleared his throat before answering. "There's nothing to really argue about."

 _'Well played'_  Daenerys thought. "You said he talked about me while he was at Castle Black, was he sent to a different castle?"

She noticed the smile faded from Jon's face when she asked. "He was killed a month after he returned by raiders on his way to Eastwatch."

Daenerys's smile faded as well. "My apologies, I was unaware."

"He died fighting to protect my dragons, I'll always be forever grateful to him."

"What was he doing with your dragons?"

Jon didn't answer, he seemed to be upset with himself. "I tasked him with bringing Ygris and Lyarras to you." This shocked Daenerys and the others around her. He was going to give his dragons to her? "When they first hatched, I didn't think I could handle raising dragons. I had to get them away from the Wall and the threat that was coming. I thought you would be the best one I could trust to keep them safe. And I knew nothing about dragons at the time, I still don't."

Daenerys had to recollect herself for moment. If she wanted to establish a good relationship with Jon, then sharing her knowledge about dragons could be a foundation to build upon. "I heard that you call them your daughters."

"They are girls from what my friend and I saw… or rather didn't."

Daenerys couldn't contain her amusement. "Dragons don't have a gender, they each lay their own eggs."

Jon was wide eyed. "Oh, well that's good to know." There was a brief pause so everyone could take a moment to enjoy their food.

"Lord Snow," Varys said, "as you probably have guessed, my spies have told me many things about you, but I was curious, do you really sing to your dragons?"

This was surprising and it seemed to catch Jon off guard as he choked on his drink. He looked over to Daenerys and could tell she was very curious. "I do on occasion. It calms me down as much as it does them."

There was another thing that made Jon remind Daenerys of Rhaegar. Ser Barriston told her that Rhaegar liked to sing to the people. Daenerys could tell Jon was getting uncomfortable, so she decided to lead the conversation elsewhere. "If might ask, who did you name your dragons after?"

He looked over to her, looking grateful for what she did. "I named them after the people they remind me of. Lyarras after my aunt Lyanna. The color of her wings is the same as a winter rose, and my father would always place one on her crypt every year. Ygris I named after a Wildling girl named Ygritte. She was the one who convinced me that the Free Folk weren't our enemies. She's gone now."

"What about Ygris reminded you of Ygritte?"

"Ygris' eyes are fiery orange, the same color of Ygritte's hair."

Daenerys couldn't help but wonder if Ygritte was once a lover of Jon's. They all continued until the light of the sun was completely gone from the sky and the starts began to appear. They each excused themselves from the dining hall, Daenerys walking with Jon to the doors. "We'll have to pick up where we left off tomorrow evening."

"I look forward to it." He said as he bowed his head and left.


	21. Arya I

Arya

 

The snow covering the North was thickening as they days passed by. But today, they were fair on the roads to Winterfell. Arya’s horse had just reached the top of a hill when the castle came into sight. A wave of satisfaction swept over her as she looked upon her home. It wasn’t in flames, it wasn’t taken by the Boltons, it was Winterfell. Finally, after years of running and hiding, she was home. As her horse walked down the hill, Ayra heard a creature screeching from behind her. She turned her head and saw two dragons, flying overhead to Winterfell. All she could do was watch in wonder as the two dragons reached the broken tower and seemed to perch there. _‘What in seven hells?’_

Arya approached the gates after leaving her horse. When she got to the opened doors, she was stopped by two guards, one fat and the other rather skinny. The fat one stepped in front of her blocking her way in. “Hey, where you goin?”

“In there, I live hear” she informed them.

The fat one seemed like he was too tired to deal with her, or he was too lazy. “Fuck off.”

“I’m Arya Stark, this is my home.”

The two off them began to giggle like girls when she told them. “Arya Stark is dead,” the skinny one said.

“Send for Maester Luwin, or Ser Rodrick, they’ll tell you who I am.”

“There’s no Rodrick here.”

“The Maester’s named Wolkan” the fat one said.

_‘They must’ve died then’_ she thought. “Go ask Jon Snow then, the King-”

She was interrupted when a boy pushed passed the guards and quickly gave her a tight hug. She didn’t notice who it was, and his voice was unrecognizable. “I knew you were alive.” Arya looked behind him and saw a familiar white direwolf with ruby red eyes. But this wasn’t Jon, this boy was just as tall as her. The boy finally let go and revealed his face, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Welcome home Arya.”

“Rickon?” Arya didn’t recognize him at first. He’d grown so much and his hair was long and curly. He looked just like their father and the sword strapped to his side looked just like his, except he didn’t have a beard. She returned the hug and closed her eyes, thinking that this might’ve been a dream. When she opened them, he was still there.

The guards behind them were dumbstruck, realizing that they made a very big mistake. “You’re really Arya Stark?” The skinny one asked.

“Course she is you idiot!” The fat one said, “Lord Stark just called her Arya!” Arya let go of Rickon and looked at both of the guards, awaiting an apology. “Forgive us milady, we didn’t recognize you-”

“Of course we didn’t recognize her, we ain’t never seen her before!” The skinny one looked over at Arya, unamused by them. “We’re sorry, milady. It won’t happen again.”

“Course it won’t happen again, we know who she is now.” They both looked at her again and saw her face and finally shut up.

Rickon and Arya walked past them, Ghost following close behind. “Keep up the good work,” she joked. Arya took another look at Ghost, he remained quiet as he always was, and wondered why he was here and not with Jon. “Where’s Shaggydog, and Jon?”

Rickon stopped, trying to keep his face smiling. “Jon’s at Dragonstone, trying to convince the Dragon Queen to help us. Shaggydog’s buried in the Godswood.”

“I’m sorry. I’m still not sure how many people I knew before I left are still alive.”

“Not many unfortunately.” Arya stopped walking with Rickon when she saw the passage way to the crypts. Rickon turned to her “Arya?”

“There’s someone I need to see first.” She began to walk to the entrance and into the darkness, leaving Rickon behind. The torches along the walls gave enough light to see in front of her. She soon walked passed all of the statues of her ancestors and some who were very recently buried. She passed a statue that looked like Robb and next him was Greywind. There was a tomb for him even though it was probably empty. She heard that the Frey’s let his body rot with their mother, his wife, Greywind, and the rest of his army. She moved on and found the one she was looking for. Her father’s statue stood proud, holding a copy of Ice. She assumed it was to represent what he always said. _‘The man who passes the sentence, should swing the sword.’_ When she looked at his face, she didn’t recognize it. She remembered her father’s face enough to know that the statue didn’t look enough like him.

Arya soon heard footsteps approaching. Two people and one direwolf. She turned her head and saw her sister, followed by Rickon and Ghost. She looked the same, but older. “Hello Sansa.” Sansa smiled at her and quickly walked up to her and hugged her. They didn’t leave on the best of terms, but Arya could tell that she wasn’t the moron who wanted to play princess anymore. Sansa let go of her and she was able to get a better look at her. “You look like the Lady of Winterfell.”

“I am the Lady of Winterfell.”

Arya looked at Rickon thinking he was the Lord of Winterfell. “I told her and Jon that I’m not ready to be a lord, so Sansa’s in charge until I’m old enough.” He gave a satisfied look to her before she took another look at Sansa.

“It suits you, Lady Stark. So Jon’s in Dragonstone?”

“He is. We all told him not to go, but he did it anyway.” Sansa looked at her, recalling her love for Jon. “I hope comes back soon. I remember how happy he was to see me. When he sees you, his heart will stop.” She laughed with her sister and brother before they all looked at their father’s tomb.

“It doesn’t look like him.” Arya said. “It should’ve been carved by someone who knew his face.”

“Everyone who knew his face is dead” Sansa told her.

“We’re not.” They each exchanged smile to each other, proud to hear those words. “They say you killed Joffrey. Did you?”

“I wish I had.”

“Me too. I was angry when I heard someone else had done it. However long my list got, he was always first.”

“You’re list?” Rickon asked.

Arya looked at both Sansa and Rickon “of people I’m going to kill.” Sansa looked at her weirdly before she laughed at that. Arya just smiled and didn’t say anything.

“How’d you get back to Winterfell?” Sansa asked.

“It’s a long story. I imagine both of yours are long too.”

“Yes, and they aren’t very pleasant ones.”

“Mine neither. But our stories aren’t over yet.”

“No, there not.” Arya grabbed hold of both her siblings and hugged them again, tightly. “Arya” Sansa said. Arya released them and looked at her. “Bran’s home too.” Arya was overjoyed when she heard that, but Sansa and Rickon didn’t share the same feeling. The joy faded and she was curious if something was wrong.

* * *

In the Godswood, Arya saw Bran sitting in a chair with wheels by the weirwood tree. Next to him was an Older man and a girl about Bran’s age. They were all talking until they saw the Stark children approaching. They stopped and let Arya rush ahead to see Bran. The two people who were next to him took a few steps back, giving them more room. When she stood in front of him, he didn’t seem to be excited. “You came home.” Arya hugged him tightly, relieved to see him of all people still alive. She let him go and took a step back, looking at how he’s changed. He cut his hair, she liked it. “I saw you at the crossroads.”

“You saw me?” Arya was confused. Was Bran at the crossroads as too? If he was, how did he get ahead of her?

“I see quite a lot now.”

“Bran has…visions” Sansa informed.

Rickon looked over at Arya “he’s called the Three Eyed Raven.”

Arya looked over at Bran, confused. “I thought you might go to King’s Landing.”

“So did I” she confirmed.

“Why would you go back there?” Sansa asked.

“Cersei on her list of names” Bran said.

Arya was speechless. What happened to him? She felt the eyes of her sister fall on her as she turned he head to look at her. She thought she was joking. “Who else is on your list?”

“Most of them are dead already” Arya told them. She looked back to Bran as he just unsheathed an exotic looking dagger from its scabbard. She noticed the ripple pattern on the blade and recognized it from the pattern that was on Ice. “Where did you get this?”

“Littlefinger gave it to me” Bran said as he fondled the blade.

“Littlefinger, he’s here?” The man who sided with the Lannisters? The man who assisted in overthrowing Robb? Arya turned to Sansa for an answer.

“He’s declared for House Stark. Why would he give you a dagger?” She changed the subject, but Arya was curious as well.

“He’d thought I’d want it” Bran told them.

“Why?” Sansa asked.

“Because it was mean to kill me.”

“The cutthroat, after your fall.”

“Why would a cutthroat have a valyrian steel dagger?” Arya asked.

“Someone very wealthy wanted me dead” Bran told them.

“He’s not a generous man,” Sansa stated, “he wouldn’t give you anything unless he thought he was getting something back.”

Bran sheathed the blade and held the dagger up, inspecting the scabbard before he looked over to them. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Sansa sounded irritated.

“I don’t want it.” Bran held the dagger out to Arya.

“Are you sure? It’s valyrian steel.”

“It’s wasted on a cripple” Bran told her.

She took the dagger and looked at the craftmanship before securing onto her belt. She turned around to the man and girl who were watching them the whole time. “Who’re you?” She asked attentively.

The man stepped forward and slightly bowed his head to her. “Forgive me, I’m Lord Reed and this is my daughter, Meera.”

“Lord Reed as in Howland Reed?”

“The very same.” He said giving her a smile.

“What were the three of you talking about?” When she asked, the smile died and Lord Reed looked at Bran, as if letting him be the one to answer.

“Jon’s mother” Bran said. Arya turned back around when she heard him, wide eyed as Sansa and Rickon “and his father.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sansa asked.

“Jon’s not the son of Eddard Stark, he’s the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and our aunt, Lyanna.”

The three of them were speechless. “You’re lying” Arya said. “Jon’s our brother, he’s always been our brother.”

“He’s telling the truth” Lord Howland said. They all turned to face him. “I was there the day Jon was born. Your father made me swear secrecy to never tell anyone, but now the time has come for such things to be revealed.”

“But why?” Rickon asked. “Why would father say Jon was his son?”

“Robert Baratheon” Sansa said. “He hated the Targaryens, and he would’ve killed Jon if he knew he was Rhaegar’s bastard.”

“Indeed, Lady Sansa” Lord Howland said. “Your aunt never died of a fever, she died of childbirth in the Tower of Joy in Dorne.”

“So that makes him a Sand instead of Snow.” Sansa said.

“No it doesn’t” Arya said.

“Dornish bastards are named-”

“But he’s not a Dornish, he’s a Northerner. He’s a Snow” Arya looked at all of them with fire in her eyes. She wasn’t angry with them, but this was one argument she wouldn’t dare to lose.”

“In any case,” Bran said, “he needs to know. If Daenerys Targaryen should die in the wars to come, then he’ll be the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.”

There was a silence between all of them. Jon could be King of the Seven Kingdoms. “This stays between us.” Arya said. Everyone looked at her, wondering why. “The other lords don’t need to know they’re following a Targaryen.” They seemed to understand her point.

“My lords and ladies” Lord Howland said “I’m afraid I must bid you all farewell. I am needed back at Greywater Watch and I have already overstayed my time here.” He looked over to Bran, “I’ll return soon, but until then, good luck to you all.” He bowed his head and left, his daughter following him. She looked back at Bran before continuing on.

There was a silence between the four Stark children. “He’s still our brother,” Rickon said, “and he’s still a Stark.”

Arya smiled at him, happy to hear that. “No argument there.” Arya shivered as the snow continued to fall, now feeling the cold. “Let’s get inside before I freeze my ti-” She looked over to Rickon, who looked confused at what she was about to say. “My toes off,” she changed. Sansa couldn’t help but chuckle when she did that. Arya grabbed the handles on the back of Bran’s chair and pushed him forward through the snow, Sansa, Rickon, and Ghost following closely.

When they entered they yard, Arya noticed many eyes gazing at them, and the happiness behind those eyes. It made her feel warm. The Starks of Winterfell are home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your Welcome


	22. Jon VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is skipping to after Daenerys burns the Tarlys. After going over the scenes inbtween, there's not enough of note to change, but this is when things start to mix up a little

Jon

 

 

Jon stood at the cliffs of Dragonstone, watching as the largest of the dragons, Drogon, returned after days of absence with Daenerys. His size was greater than Jon could’ve imagined dragon to ever grow. He wondered if his dragons would ever grow to that size, if they survived the war. Behind Jon, Rhaegal and Viserion were resting next to each other, as if waiting for their mother and brother to return to them. Jon seemed to notice that Rhaegal was the calmest of the three and Drogon was the loudest. Viserion seemed to be right in the middle.

As Drogon swooped down over Jon, the ground shook as he landed. Jon turned to face him and saw the dragon looking at him with what seemed to be the look predators give when they are about to kill their prey. Drogon began to charge forward at him, the intensity was more than anything Jon experience, but he stooped right before he reached him. Jon felt as if Drogon was trying to test him. The dragon kept smelling him while his eyes had the look of the intent to kill.

Jon was nervous, but not afraid. He slowly removed one of his gloves and began to stick his hand out to Drogon even slower. The dragon showed its teeth and his growls seemed to cause the ground to shake. Ygris and Lyarras and always been so playful and welcoming to him, but this was different. These were someone else’s dragons. As soon as his palm made contact with Drogon’s snout, they both seemed to feel calmer. Jon could see the daunting presence this creature gave, but there was also something else about it. It reminded him of Ghost in a way more than it did his dragons.

Drogon pulled away as Daenerys climbed down from his back. He left the two of them and walked over to his sleeping brothers. Jon put his glove back on as Daenerys approached him. “You’re really special Jon Snow, he never lets anyone near him except me. To let you touch him is remarkable.” She looked over as Drogon had just gotten comfortable with his brothers. “They’re incredible aren’t they.”

“To be honest, it’s not the first word that comes to mind, but they are, Divine beasts.”

Daenerys gave him a sharp look “they’re not beasts, to me, they’re my children. You yourself call your dragons your daughters.”

“To be fair, it was my brothers of the Watch who called them that, and the name seemed to stick.” They both began to walk together towards her dragons. “You weren’t gone long.”

“No.”

“And?”

“And I have fewer enemies today then I did yesterday.” Jon became discontent when she said that. “You’re not sure how you feel about that.”

“No I’m not.”

“How many men did army kill taking Winterfell back from the Boltons?”

“Thousands.” He wished he it could’ve been only one, Ramsay.

“We both want to help people. We can only help them from a position of strength. Someimes strength is terrible.” That made Jon remember his time as Lord Commander when he killed Ser Alliser and the others who betrayed him. Jon felt Daenerys’s hand on his back and stopped to face her. “When you first came here, Ser Davos said you took a knife in the heart for your people.”

Jon really didn’t want to talk about it. How do you talk about it? He didn’t want to lie either, but he had to say something. “Ser Davos gets carried away” he did his best to smile, but it was a horrible attaempt that anyone could see through.

“So it was a figure of speech?” Jon felt cornered. Maybe he should tell her, he has the scars to show it.

Before he could say anything, Jon noticed some of the Dothraki approaching them, and a man following behind them. Jon recognized the Dothraki who was leading them. His name was Qhono if he remembered correctly. _“This man says he is your friend, Khaleesi.”_ Qhono stepped aside and revealed the man who followed them. He was Westerosi and something about him looked familiar.

_“He is my friend.”_ Daenerys seemed happy to see this man, whoever he was.

The man knelt down on one knee and looked up at her. “You grace,” was all he said as he stood up. His eyes turned to him, looking cautiously.

“Jon Snow this is Ser Jorah Mormont, an old friend.” Daenerys informed.

Lord Commander Mormont’s son, that’s where he recognized him. If he had as big a belly as his father, he’d be the spitting image of him. “I served with father. He was a great man.” Jorah seemed to be saddened when he was reminded of his father’s passing.

“You look strong. You found a cure?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t,” He told her. “I’d return to your service, if you’d have me.”

“It would be my honor.” Daenerys seemed to be happier than Jon had ever seen her during his entire stay on the island. He felt uncomfortable as she embraced Ser Jorah. But why? Something was punching him in his gut and he couldn’t determine what. Daenerys let go of her friend and began to walk with them back to the castle, but Jon didn’t. She seemed to notice and looked back at him. “Are you coming?”

“If I may, I’d like to stay outside for a while longer, your grace.”

She seemed to be amused by his request. “Haven’t finished brooding?”

Jon felt like she could see right through him. He decided to have a change of mind and joined them back to the castle. Ser Jorah walked right next to Jon and tried to start some small talk. “I heard you have dragons, Is that true?”

“Aye, they were born at Castle Black and they’re protecting my family in Winterfell right now. My little brother calls them the Night Dragons.”

“How’d that happen? I thought direwolves were the only legendary creatures of the North.”

“Aemon Targaryen was the maester of Castle Black. He had two dragon eggs he’d been hiding for many years. When he died, we put the eggs on his pyre and then the dragons hatched. I was the first one they saw and they took to me.”

Ser Jorah didn’t seem impressed, he seemed to act as if he was studying Jon. “How were you released from your vows? Last I checked, they were for life.”

Jon noticed Daenerys twitch her head when he asked that. Even she didn’t know. “I was released from my vows after an incident of treason at Castle Black.”

“You’re a lucky man. You’ve been granted a second chance to live rather than to serve.”

_‘If only you knew’_ Jon thought.

* * *

Jon didn’t spend much more time with them, as he was needed down at the dragonglass caves. It took him less than an hour to get there from where he was, but he still became very onnoyed at all the walking.

When he reached the caves, one of the few Dothraki who spoke the common tongue was waiting for him, holding a dragonglass dagger. Jon was told his name was Abroko. “Snow,” he said “we have just finished our own dagger made of the glass.” He handed it to Jon who marveled at the workmanship. The blade was larger than any of the daggers they found at the Fist of the First Men and this was the first one he had seen with a proper handle. He held the bone handle in his hand and the grip felt very natural to hold.

“Got bored of mining it then?” Jon quipped.

Abroko laughed and handed a fur scabbard over to Jon to sheath the blade. “We wanted to see how big we could make a blade. The failures we had were used for arrow heads.” Abroko grabbed a small pouch from his side and opened it, revealing at least a dozen dragonglass arrowheads. He closed the pouch and handed it to Jon. “Both for you.”

Jon looked at him, surprised that he would be so generous. “Abroko I couldn’t-”

“It’s not a gift.” This had made Jon curious.

“Why would you give them to me then?”

“I lost a bet, I have to pay up.” He smirked as he began to walk back into the caves.

“What was the bet?” Jon shouted.

Abroko laughed when he told him. “Whether or not you’d still be alive by now! Unfortunately for me, you are!” Jon felt betrayed at that. He had spent enough time with Abroko to at least consider him a friend, but friends must come differently to the Dothraki.

A few hours had gone by and the work in the coves was going very well. Though Jon didn’t know how to mine properly, he could still do some of the heavy lifting. However, his work was soon interrupted by Qhono as he entered the caves, holding Longclaw in its scabbard. He waited for Jon to approach him as well as Abroko so he could translate. He spoke his words and looked at Abroko who was smiling, signaling him to tell Jon. “He said that he heard that you are the greatest fighter in your entire country. He wants to know if you can prove it.”

Jon chuckled at that “I never claimed to be the greatest.”

Abroko translated for Qhono and he gave his response. “Not all men have to claim to be what they are.”

Jon wasn’t one to show off, but he hadn’t had a proper sparring in a while and he hasn’t held his sword ever since he gave it to the Dothraki. He smiled at Qhono and held out his hand towards Longclaw. Qhono smiled back and handed Longclaw over to him. He motioned for Jon to follow him outside, and he followed along with all the other miners. They could use a break after all.

On the beach, Qhono drew his arakh and Jon strapped Longclaw to his hips. It felt right to have a sword at his side once again. He drew the blade and heard the metal sing as it left the scabbard. The Dothraki around them sat on nearby rocks and from what Jon could guess, taking bets on who would win. Jon stretched his arms before Abroko stood in between them. He pulled out a coin of silver jon didn’t recognize and looked at both of them. “When the coin hits the ground, you will begin.” He repeated what he said to Qhono and flipped the coin in the air. Abroko raced to the other Dothraki as the coin fell to the sand. As soon as it made contact, Qhono had dashed forward at Jon, swinging his arakh from below. Jon was able to parry, but that’s all he seemed to be able to do as Qhono’s strikes were very fast and agile. Jon saw an opening to dodge behind Qhono, but when he tried to take it, Qhono’s elbow met Jon’s temple. That was all it took to convince Jon that this wasn’t to the death, but blood was going to be shed.

Jon went on the offensive and swung at Qhono’s center, hoping that he would lose his balance, but Qhono was skilled enough to not let that happen. As the fight continued, the cheers from the side seemed to get louder and louder. For Jon, people usually remained quiet as he sparred, but this was much more exciting. Jon parried another strike before Qhono used the momentum to spin and add power to his upcoming attack. Jon wouldn’t be able to block this strike, so instead he met the blade with Longclaw and stuck it as hard as he could. The arakh’s blade was cut cleanly apart where the swords met. At the top half of the blade fell to the sand, Whono held up what remained and marveled at the cut. The men watching fell silent and marveled at what they just saw. Abroko finally broke the silence “I’ve never seen a weapon that could cut through Dothraki steel. What kind of sword is that?”

Jon stood up, sweating from the duel. “It’s Valyrian steel, rarest of weapons and the strongest.”

Abroko translated to those around him as Qhono approached Jon. “Good fight” was all he said, surprising to Jon, as he unsheathed a dagger at his boot and brought it behind his head. Jon learned that the Dothroki braid their hair for the victories they achieve and cut it when they lose.

Jon grabbed Qhono’s arm holding the dagger and stopped him. The Dothraki fell silent, as they watched him. “It wasn’t a real fight, just a duel.” He heard Abroko translate for him as he and Qhono lowered his dagger, but he seemed to look ashamed. “Don’t look at this as a loss, look at it as learning something new.” Abroko translated again and Qhono seemed to have his spirits lifted. He held his free hand out to Jon and he gladly accepted.

When they let go, Jon sheathed Longclaw and undid the scabbard from his waist. When he offered it back to Qhono to keep it under hold for him, Qhono pushed it back to Jon. This was shocking to him as qhono seemed to say something loud enough for all the Dothraki he watched to hear. Some of them chuckled and tried to suppress their laughter. “What did he say?” Jon asked.

“He said he trusts you to keep your sword with you.” Abroko said.

Jon felt like he missed a joke that was right in front of him. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing” Abroko said. “It’s what he said after that.”

“What did he say?”

Abroko only laughted at him. “I’ll tell you when there’s no more mining to be done.” Abroko jumped to his feet and went back to the caves, the other Dothraki following shortly after exchanging what seemed to be valuables. Jon srapped Longclaw back to his hip and saw Missandei and three of the Dothraki, walking towards him. They must have heard what Qhono said since they all smirked when they saw Jon.

“Your grace,” Missandei said “Queen Daenerys wishes to speak to you in her quarters. She has some private matters she wishes to discuss.”

_‘Private matters? What could she want to talk to me about that’s private?’_ “Of course.”

“We’ll escort you to her.” Missandei waited for him to catch up to them before they all began the long walk to the castle. The sun had just set and the torches of Dragonstone were being lit. The inside of the castle was still darkened, which seemed peculiar. Inside, Jon and his escort were at the hallway leading to Daenerys’s solar, Jon leading them. To all of their surprise, none of the torches were lit and the hallway was nothing but a shadow. They all stopped, the fear of why keeping them from advancing.

“Stay here” Jon said. He slowly began to walk in the hallway, letting the darkness surround him, by the time he couldn’t see in front of him, he tripped over something on the ground. One of the Dothraki grabbed a torch nearby and rushed into the hall after him. When the light appeared, Missandei gasped at what Jon was lying on. Two Dothraki warriors were dead with their throats slit. Jon was sitting in the trail of blood one was leaving. The Dothraki with the torch shouted something in his language and Qhono ran up next to him with Missandei while the other ran back the way they came screaming something.

Jon looked at the bodies and he immediately thought of who they were probably protecting. “Daenerys!” He stood up immediately and began to run through the hall, the Dothraki and Missandei following closely. When they reached her door, Jon shoved it open and found her room empty. A chair at her table was turned over and a glass container shattered on the floor. On her bead was a letter. It was sealed with the sigil of a Kraken. The Greyjoys.

Jon took the letter and opened it. Missandei stood next to him as he read.

 

_To those loyal to the Dragon Queen_

_I have taken her to the Salt Throne, she is mine._

_She will die as I strap her to a boulder and push her into the sea._

_She will die as I take my axe and bring it down to her head._

_She will die as I let all my men have their way with her and then I’ll show them how to properly fuck a queen._

_She will die unless the King in the North is brought before me._

_She will die unless the North is surrendered to Queen Cersei._

_She will die unless the heads of all who carry the name Stark are resting on spikes._

_She will die unless Little Theon can sprout a new cock between his legs_

_You have until the next full moon_

 

Jon held the letter tightly as the bells of Dragonstone began to sound. He looked over to Missandei who looked mortified at the contents of the letter. “Euron took her.” He tossed the letter aside and rushed out the door with her. “They couldn’t have gotten far! If they have a ship, it would only be departing now. We still have a chance to stop them!” Jon began to run as lost track of if Missandei was behind him or not. Jon made it to a balcony that overlooked the parts of the island that weren’t frequently visited. He looked out to the ocean, checking for any sign of movement. He couldn’t see anything as far as the horizon.

Missandei finally caught up him and was followed by six Daothraki. One of them spoke to her and she gave him dreaded news. “Twelve Dothraki were found dead at one of the beaches. There was no sign of any ships as far as they could see.”

Jon turned to all of them, worried and panicking. “They have Daenerys.”


	23. Sam II

Sam

 

His days at the Citadel were less resourceful than he had hoped. Sam often found the only times he ever learned anything of worth was in his private time with Gilly, Little Sam, and the book he would barrow from the restricted area. After learning all he could about dragonglass, he switched to researching the first Long Night to find other ways to defeat the White Walkers forever. Unfortunately, he kept finding himself going in circles about an old prophecy. He gave up on that and returned to researching ways that were known to kill the White Walkers. As far as he knew, he killed a Walker with the dragonglass dagger and Jon killed a Walker with Longclaw. Dragonglass and Valyrian steel were the only known materials that seemed to harm the White Walkers. From what Sam could already deduce was that both involved dragons. The origins of dragonsglass seemed to be mixed. The records in the Citadel say that it is a volcanic rock while stories about old Valyria say it was the dragons themselves that made it. As long as the cache in Dragonstone kept supplying the dragonglass, he didn’t seem to matter of its origins. Valyrian steel on the other hand was far more complicated to figure out. The secret to forging it was lost in the Doom of Valyria, and only a few dozen swords remained, Heartsbane included.

Sam was in the middle of reading the Legend of the First Targaryen while Gilly practiced reading some of the books the Arch Maester told him to make copies of. Little Sam was on a bed playing with a toy soldier he bought for him months ago when they first arrived.

In the book, Sam read that the first Targaryen’s name was Vaelrion. He was said to have forged the very first Valyrian steel sword in history and that is how his family rose to better power. But the things he read were only stories, not facts or historical records. But with all he had available, this was as good as he was going to get.

“What part are you at now?” Gilly asked, following along with everything he read. He might as well have read the whole thing aloud.

“Vaelrion’s dragon died of an age of three hundred years. Its final breath was a small fire that lit the forge that was used to make the sword.”

“So, it’s dragon fire then?”

“Unfortunately, no, it’s more than that.” Sam looked up from the book and saw Gilly’s clueless face. “After the Doom of Valyria, the were many Targaryens who tried to make Valyrian steel by forging them with the fire of their dragons. But, right before the steel was finished, it was always shatter, like there was too much power to be contained in the steel.”

“So, what contains it then?”

Sam sighed, getting a bit tired of the questions that he kept on giving the same answer. “I don’t know.”

“How did Valrin forge his sword then?”

“Vaelrion” he corrected. “All it says is he labored on the sword like any other, and then he quenched the blade in what would crack unworthy steel.”

Gilly seemed even more confused and continued to read the Diary of the High Septon Maynard. Sam looked back into his book and continued reading, but he still didn’t understand any of it. After the sword was forged, Vaelrion fought in the greatest tourney in living history. When he cut down his last opponent, he tossed his helm aside, raised his sword and declared his name for all to hear. _‘I am Vaelrion of House Targaryen. From this day, until the last day, those of my line shall meet our enemies as I have this day. With Fire and Blood.’_ Fire and Blood. The words of house Targaryen. But they didn’t make sense in this case. Vaelrion says it like he defeated his enemies that day with fire and blood, but there wasn’t any fire of any kind.

Sam then just had an epiphany, when he said ‘meet our enemies as I have this day’ he meant his sword, the valyrian steel. But how was the steel fire? It drew blood at the tourney, but no fire of any kind. But he wasn’t talking about killing enemies with fire and blood each, he was talking about his sword. It was made of Fire and Blood. Dragon fire and Dragon blood. The fire would imbue the steel with magic, and the blood of the dragon would contain it when the blade was quenched. Sam immediately began to write as much notes as he could, seeing as how he may have discovered a secret thought to have been lost forever.

As he wrote down in a large notebook, Gilly continued with her questions. “Do you know how many steps there are in the Citadel?”

“No” Sam said, curiosity completely focused somewhere else.

“Fifteen thousand seven hundred and eighty-two.” There was a moment of blissful silence before she asked him another question. “Guess how many windows are in the Great Sept of Baelor.”

“None anymore.”

She seemed unhappy that she couldn’t say the number “that’s true. This high Septon Maynard, he recorded everything. He even recorded his own bowel movements.” Sam was far from being done and was starting to get a headache. “What does, annulment mean?”

“It’s when a man sets aside his lawful wife.”

“Maynard says here that he issued an annulment for a Prince Rag- Reg, Reeg… how do you say this name?” Gilly held the book out in front of Sam as he looked up.

“He issued and annulment to Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen and later married him to Lyanna of House Stark in a secret ceremony in Dorne.” He looked back down at his notes and continued to make his notes.

“Thank you, Sam.”

Sam continued to write his notes, thinking about how many more questions he could answer. ‘Why would anyone care what the Prince Rhaegar did, royalty can do as they please…Rhaegar Targaryen left Elia Martell for Lyanna Stark… The woman who Rhaegar kidnapped and then raped… and married in a secret ceremony?’ Then it all hit Sam. He dropped his quill and slowly looked up at Gilly, wide eyed. “May I see that again?” Gilly handed him the diary and he scanned over the words he obliviously read earlier. His jaw fell as low as it could when he went over the words again and again. “Oh my.”

“What is it?” Gilly asked. “Is the Prince important?”

Sam dropped the diary and fell back into his chair. “Gilly” he said “I think you might have just uncovered one of the greatest secrets a person can keep.”

“What’s that?”

Sam got out of his chair and walked over to a satchel he brought with him when they left Castle Black. “Before we left, when we said goodbye to Grenn, he slipped me a small scroll and told me to keep quiet about it. I forgot about it until we got to Hornhill. It only said five words, but I’ve never had the right answer until now.” He found the scroll and handed it to Gilly. She unrolled it and read what it said.

“Could Jon be a Targaryen?” she looked up at Sam was very confused.

“During a war called Robert’s Rebellion, Jon’s father, Ned Stark rode to Dorne to find his sister Lyanna Stark. She was being guarded by Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard in a castle. Ned Stark defeated them, but his sister died of a fever. Something that always puzzled me is why were the Kingsguard there? The were charged with protecting the King not guarding captives. But they weren’t guarding her, they were guarding their future king.”

“Was it Jon?” Gilly asked, seemingly lost in this whole story.

Sam quickly nodded. “I think Rhaegar never kidnapped Lyanna or raped her. He loved her and she loved him, so they ran away together.”

“But what does that have to do with Jon?”

“Don’t you see? He’s their son!”

“But I thought Ned Stark was Jon’s father.”

“He must’ve lied to everyone and said that to keep Jon safe. Robert Baratheon didn’t regret the murder of Rhaegar’s other children and he sent assassins after Daenerys Targaryen and her brother when they were still only children.”

“So does that make Jon a Targaryen?”

“It does far more than that, it makes him the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.”

“The chair people keep fighting over?”

“Yes, that one.”

Gilly seemed to be in a daze, not knowing what she should be feeling. “Is that a good thing?”

That was the first question she asked that he paid real attention to. How would that affect Jon if he found out? From what Sam knew, Jon was in the middle of negotiating with Daenerys Targaryen, his aunt, about her conquest to claim the Iron Throne. Would he make a claim if he knew? _‘No, he wouldn’t. He’s not that kind of person. He needs to know.’_ Sam closed his notebook and stacked it along with a few other books he already had. “We need to leave for Winterfell.”

“When?”

“Now. I’m going back to the Citadel for a few more things. Get yourself and Little Sam ready.” Gilly nodded as he bolted out the door with a large satchel.

* * *

Sam had all he needed from the Citadel. No one but him would put to use the information he had but him. Sam was nearly out the entrance before a voice stopped him. “Did you really think no one would notice your late-night prowling?” Sam turned around and saw the Arch Maester in the hallway of the Citadel. “I’ve allowed you to progress in your campaign, hoping you would realize it utterly pointless, but it seems I was wrong.”

“Pointless?” Sam turned around, anger pulsing through him. “You and many others are lucky enough to sit on the greatest sources of knowledge in the world, and all you do is record things that don’t even matter anymore. I’m the only one here who’s actually learned something by looking for answers while the rest of you records the movements of the High Septon’s fifteen thousand seven hundred and eighty-two shits!”

The Arch Maester remained silent for a moment. “then tell me, Samwell of House Tarly, what have you learned that we haven’t?”

“I uncovered two of the greatest secrets that were practically lost to the world, yet the answers to them were in plain sight. I know how to make Valyrian steel once again and I learned it in two weeks of research. How many have spent their lives trying to uncover that?”

The Arch Maester remained silent. “And what was the other?” he finally asked?

Sam scoffed at him, “I know who the rightful King to the Seven Kingdom’s is, and I’m going to go help him.”

The Arch Maester only looked at him, unfazed by his information. “You may leave Tarly, but don’t come back ever. If everything you say is true, then I’ll listen to anything you have to say when it’s over.” The Arch Maester walked away back into the Citadel, leaving Sam. He probably wasn’t going to return, but he still had to survive what’s coming to worry about something like that.

On their wagon, Sam and Gilly took a moment before they left to look at the great tower behind them and the blazing fire atop of it. Sam finally whipped the reigns and they began to make their way to the docks of Oldtown to book passage to White Harbor.

 

 

 


	24. Tyrion I

Tyrion

 

“Fuck!” was all he managed to say to the others who were gathered around the Painted Table, Jon, Jorah, Davos, Varys, Theon, and Missandei. Only hours ago, was he talking with Daenerys, not about politics or conquering, just a regular conversation. Jorah seemed the most distressed. He hadn’t returned a full day yet and things had already gone to hell. He had been with Tyrion, talking about what happened to him at the Citadel when they heard the bells ring.

“We know where she’s going” Jorah said. “We have to follow them to Pyke.”

“We can’t” Theon said. “Euron’s fleet is probably scattered about the entire route watching for any ship that heads that way. He’d rather drag you to the island then peacefully welcome you.”

“It’s not probably, it is.” Varys confirmed. “I just recently received a raven from my little birds along the coasts of Dorne telling me that Greyjoy ships are being spotted more than they have been for the past two weeks. If we choose to pursue the, whoever does will absolutely be captured.”

“So how to we get there?” Jorah asked. “We can’t just leave her.”

“That’s obvious” Tyrion said “but we have to think about this carefully. One wrong step and she could be killed.” They were all interrupted by the screeching of the dragons. “We have three dragons, but they answer to no one but Daenerys.” Tyrion looked over to Jon “They may answer to you considering you have dragons of your own, but as easy as it would be to burn Pyke to the ground, we can't.”

“Why not?” Jorah asked. “Those who surround her will be burned while she remains unharmed. Fire cannot kill a dragon.”

“Indeed, but I’m pretty sure that crashing debris from whatever ship or castle she’s in will!” Tyrion took a moment to calm down. “I saw Drogon’s power at the battle of the Blackwater Rush. Their strength is too great. Whatever they burn won’t just catch fire, it would be completely obliterated.”

“Then we won’t use hers,” Jon said “We’ll use mine. They’re smaller, yes, but less firepower, and they don’t make at much noise when flying.”

“And how do you expect to get them?” Tyrion asked. “The time it would take for you to get to Winterfell and then to Pyke would take too long. The last full moon ended a while ago and we are not very wealthy on time.”

“Euron will spot any ship that gets near Pyke” Theon stated. “We can’t take any of the ships we have left. We need to do this in a small group.”

“How small?” Jorah asked.

“However, many we can fit into a rowboat.”

This was all sounding ridiculous. “You want to row all the way to Pyke from the east coast?” Tyrion asked, sounded amazed that such an idea was thought of.

“Not to Pyke, to one of Euron’s ships.” Theon moved over to the west side of the table to the Iron islands. His hands ran down the table and stopped at Flint’s Finger. “Euron will be keeping at least a handful of ships anchored in the Blazwater Bay. They’ll mostly likely be close to the coast near Flint’s Finger to keep maintenance on the ships. They’ll be watching for anything coming from the north, leaving their rear unguarded. We can cut through the North on foot.”

“That may just work.” Tyrion said. “Assuming that the ship Daenerys in on gets to the Iron Islands before we do.”

“It will,” Theon said “It’s a Greyjoy ship crewed by Ironborn.”

“We’ll be cutting it very close though. The journey on foot will have to be a short one and every moment Daenerys isn’t here, she’s in danger.”

Jon said looking over the east. His gaze fell over to Greywater Watch. “We can land at the Neck and cut across the swamplands.” Jon pointed over to the castle. “There’s a dock where the Kingsroad is closest to the Bite. I’ll send a raven to Greywater Watch and have the crannogmen guide us. They’re the only ones who can do it. They can also send other men to prepare what we need at the Finger. Meanwhile the men who meet us can take whatever ship we use to get there to the White Harbor until we rescue Daenerys.”

“That will save us a lot of time” Tyrion agreed. “And if we could get there help sneaking into Pyke it would make things easier. Their skill with stealth is only matched by the Faceless Men.”

“Now the question is,” Jorah asked “who are we sending?”

“You’ll be going, that much is obvious no matter what we say” Tyrion noted.

“I’ll go.” Theon said. “we’ll disguise everyone as Ironborn and say I’ve been captured. When we get close enough to Euron, we can make the kill. If Yara’s there too, we can free her and let her take claim to the Salt Throne and the entire fleet.”

“He will be expecting something,” Davos said, “But he could be caught off guard.”

“I’ll go,” Jon said.

“They’ve already taken a queen captive,” Tyrion stated. “They don’t need a king to complete the set.”

“We’ll need fighters and the crannogmen won’t follow anyone but a Northerner.”

“Jon, I must ask you to reconsider. If you die, who will the North turn to when the fight with the White Walkers comes?”

“There’s no point to any of that if Daenerys doesn’t help us!” Jon exclaimed. “The North only has about thirty thousand who can fight against an army of over a hundred thousand by now.” Jon took several breathes before continuing. “I can’t do this on my own. I need her to help us.”

“Jon,” Davos began, “could I have a moment?” Jon walked over with Davos and they left the room.

Tyrion let them be and looked over to everyone who remained. “We’ll the Ironborn who escaped.” Theon told them. “Any Ironborn sailor can always tell who a ship is sailed by, and we’ll need Yara’s supporters.”

“That will probably be all we can afford to send. If too many go, you’ll be noticed.” Jon and Davos walked back in, looking like they just had an argument.

“When’s the soonest we can leave?” Jon asked.

Tyrion looked over to Theon, seeing as he was the new commander of the naval forces since Yara was captured. “We can leave before first light. If the Reeds can resupply us when we anchor, we won’t have to prepare as much.”

“Then what are we doing still standing around here for?” Tyrion asked.

* * *

The Targaryen ship was nearly prepared as the men leaving for the rescue were helping ready the rowboats. Tyrion was watching them with Varys and Missandei, not wanting to get in the way. “If they don’t come back from this, we’re fucked.” Tyrion openly said.

“Most indefinitely,” Varys agreed, “so let’s hope they return. Otherwise the world will face the wrath of five dragons and a hundred thousand dead men.”

“I think I’d stay here even if it came to that.” Varys looked at him, seemingly amazed. “I’d prefer to die in my home than in foreign land.”

“As I recall, I once heard whispers that you wanted to die at the age of eighty, with a belly full of mead and maiden’s mouth around your cock.”

“You and your damn birds.”

“Actually, it was Bronn who told me that.”

Tyrion snorted at that. Of course, it had to be him. Missandei was looking at the two like they were young school boys. As the men were just about ready to leave, Tyrion decided that this was the time to say goodbye in case it was the last. He pulled a coin out of his pocket and approach Jorah. He looked down to him and noticed the coin. “This is the coin the slaver gave me, when I suggest he free us and pay us, remember?”

“It was supposed to last us the rest of our lives.”

Tyrion fiddled with it a bit longer before handing it to Jorah. “Take it with, but bring it back with the Queen. She needs you.” He took it wearing a comforting smile before Tyrion walked over to Jon, Missandei walked with him. “I can’t stress enough how much I’m against you going. But if you do manage to walk away from this… I can’t think of anyone better.”

“Better than what?”

“You’ll see. Just make sure that you bring her back.” Jon nodded and turned his head to Missandei.

“Your grace,” she said, “if it would helped give you motivation, I could tell you what Qhono said to you after your duel.”

Jon didn’t seem to object as Missandei pulled her head to his ear and whispered something to him. Jon’s eyes seemed to widen a little before Missandei pulled back from him, smiling. “I promise I’ll return, and I’ll make sure Daenerys returns with me.” Jon nodded to the both of them and Jon the others pushing the last of the boats out to sea.

As they all climbed in their boats when the waves began to carry them, Tyrion turned to Missandei. “Come, I need something to drink.”

“Lord Tyrion I don’t think this is the best time for that.”

“There’s never a best time for drinking, you just do it. Besides, the more I drink, the more I’ll forget what’s happening, maybe then I’ll be able to work out what to do if they fail and they return without the Queen.” Varys joined them as they begun to walk back to the castle. “I have no doubt that they’ll succeed in finding her, but if she is taken from us forever, we probably shouldn’t just pack up and leave.”

“What are you suggesting?” Missandei asked.

“Until they return, if they return, we do the same as we did in Mereen. We hold our ground and continue to operate at the best of our capacity.”

“And if they don’t return?” Varys asked.

“They will return” Missandei objected.

“But if they don’t?”

Tyrion didn’t say anything for a while. “I'm too sober to answer that at the moment.” Varys only sighed and as they continued to the castle. They were gathered around the painted table, Tyrion already downed his fourth cup of wine.

“So, my Lord Tyrion, what is the contingency plan for the Targaryen conquest?”

Tyrion hesitated for a moment, staring at the red of his wine. “So far, I have determined that one of four things will happen.” He set the glass down of the table and cleared his throat. “Jon and his company will save our queen, defeat Euron and secure his fleet, thus the siege of King’s landing can begin and Cersei will be forced to surrender and we march north to defeat the dead.” That was what they all hoped for, but fate was never that kind. “Daenerys has already been killed, and by some luck they are able to either escape or kill Euron. Either one, we become leaderless. Be right of blood, Jon Snow would be the next in line for the throne in which case, we unite the North with our forces and manage to defeat Cersei one way or another and we face the army of the dead.” It sounded possible, but the worst was yet to come. “Daenerys escapes, but the King in the North dies. The North hears of this and cements it’s claim to be independent no matter what we do. Either way, Daenerys will feel she’d owe a debt. When the dead arrive, she’d most likely send her armies to fight with the Northerners, but they still won’t accept her. After that, we storm King’s landing and defeat Cersei, but the seas are controlled by Euron.”

“And the forth?” Missandei asked, her voice uneasy.

“Both Jon and Daenerys die and we are without a queen and a king, despite he’s not declared for us. My plan would to march North and Join with their forces. Either die fighting the dead, or defeat them and attempt to unite our armies and march south. But given that our queen was killed and her dream with her, I wouldn’t mind watching the Red Keep burn to the ground.”

Varys and Missandei looked at him as if he was the Mad King himself, but his emotionless expression didn’t change. “You would spit on the work our queen has tried to achieve?” Missandei asked.

“No, I wouldn’t. I would spit on the dead bodies of those who opposed us and took away the best hope of a great future from us. After that, I’d sail back to Essos, leave this place and let it fall apart.”

“You’d give up” she said angrily.

“I would.” Tyrion picked up his glass and drank the rest of his wine. “The Doom of Westeros, sounds catchy” he jested. He looked at the two of them and saw they were in no mood for any form of jokes or humor. “So let’s make sure it doesn’t turn out that way.”

“Instead on focusing on the bad," Varys suggested, "let’s assume the best. Our party rescue Daenerys and make it back safely. But if they don’t defeat Euron and Secure his fleet, what then?”

“I had a thought” Tyrion started “there could be a way to bring the North back into the seven without having them bend the knee to Daenerys.”

“And how would you accomplish that? The Northerners are too stubborn. Even if their King bent the knee, they’d probably annex him from themselves and renounce him as their King.”

“But what if their King didn’t need to swear fealty? What if he ruled with the queen?” Varys and Missandei didn’t seem surprised, but they still looked doubtful. “If Jon Snow were to marry Daenerys and sit next to her on the Throne, He would be the voice of the North and Daenerys the South.”

“She did talk about sealing alliances with marriage,” Missandei said, “but she can’t have children, remember?”

“I do, which is why it pains me to say this, but if they were to do that, she’d probably give the throne to Jon at some point and let him find someone who could continue his line.”

“He wouldn’t let her do that. He’s too honorable of a person.”

“I know, and she probably knows as well, but I don’t think that would stop her from doing something drastic.”

“It wouldn’t matter what she does, he wouldn’t abandon her.”

“And what makes you so sure?”

Missandei didn’t answer immediately, looking down to her lap. “He’s starting to fall in love with her.”


	25. Jon IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, am I right?

Jon

With the ship being crewed by the Ironborn, the travel to the Neck had gone faster then they had planned. Jon expected them to arrive in a week, yet they would there in five days. Surprisingly, during the sailing, a raven from Greywater Watch found them in the middle of the ocean. When they received it, the raven acted peculiar around them. Jon wouldn't have been able to guess if he hadn't seen the eyes of the raven turn pure white for a moment and its behavior seemed like a normal bird as it flew away. A warg had sent the scroll to them. When jon read the scroll, he was surprised who sent it.

_King Jon Snow_

_I have sent crannogmen to the docks at the Kingsroad to meet you and do as you instructed and I have sent another group of them to Flint's Finger to scout ahead. A word of warning though, it would be wise not to mention the company you have. Both Theon Greyjoy and Jorah Mormont are still very much hated by the men of the North. The crannogmen will bring them no harm, but I cannot say the same about anyone who might recognize them._

_Howland Reed_

Jon hadn't expected Lord Reed to return to his keep, but some of the other Northern Lords had been required at their keeps as well. Jon could help but feel a bit of excitement. They wouldn't be at the Greywater Watch for long, but long enough for Jon to finally hear something he has been waiting twenty-two years to hear.

As the mainland came into view, Jon had gathered Ser Jorah and Theon at the helm of the ship. "To avoid any situations with anyone, especially you Theon, go by different names when your around anyone who isn't sworn to House Reed."

Theon seemed to nod nervously. This was the first time Jon spoke directly to him ever since he returned from the attack on Yara's fleet. "Whatever you say."

Jon let them be after that and grabbed his possessions as they got closer to the docks. It wasn't an hour later when they finally anchored and began to disembark that a group of men who carried a banner with the sigil of House Reed approached them. Leading them, to Jon's surprise was Howland Reed himself.

"Lord Reed," Jon greeted as he stepped onto the wooden floors of the docks.

"I'm glad I was able to find you at sea." He told him.

"That was you, warging into the raven?"

"Aye, it was. Wargs are not uncommon to the crannogmen, just as they aren't uncommon to the Wildlings." Lord Reed walked with Jon as his men followed and a group of crannogmen boarded the ship, getting ready to sail it to White Harbor. "We have horses waiting up ahead and we'll ride immediately for the Greywater. When we get there, we'll have that talk I promised."

Jon couldn't help but grin. "I hope it's not too much to ask, but could you tell me how my dragons are doing when you saw them last?"

"Not at all. They we're much larger when I saw them last compared to when I first laid eyes on them. I wouldn't be amazed if they could be ridden before the Night King arrives. Although I must say, they seemed to have grown a bit wilder. As far as I know, they haven't harmed anyone." The reached the horses that were at the stables of an inn right next to the docks.

As Jon untied the reigns to his horse and mounted it, Lord Howland and the others did the same. Jon let the crannogmen take the lead as he and the others followed closely behind. With time limited, they were all galloping along the roads. The snow wasn't very dense as it was at Winterfell, in fact it was a thin crust that was melting in the heat of the sun.

The air of the swamps was just as cold as the lands beyond the Wall. He couldn't understand how the people or the horses could survive it. Not even the Northern cloaks they all wore kept them warm. They arrived at the docks in the afternoon, and by nightfall, the castle Greywater Watch finally came into view. Jon heard stories that the castle floated and no one who had seen it once saw it in the same place a month later. The castle was significantly large and had four tall towers that stood just above the trees surrounding them. A fifth tower was in the center and stood twice as high as the others. The plant life of the swamp seemed to grow over the stone of the castle, giving it a green color that eventually faded to Grey as the stone stacked higher.

Jon and his company entered the courtyard and dismounted, all of them rushing to reach the warmth of the castle. They all entered into the great hall, a great fire burning in a large hearth. The interior was decorated with as much life as there was on the outside of the castle. Lord Reed turned to face all of them. "I welcome you to the Greywater. Food will be brought to all of you shortly, tonight you shall rest easy."

After jon seemed to finally stop shivering, he was able to give his thanks. "You honor us, Lord Reed."

"I believe it's time we had that chat."

Jon nodded and looked over to Theon and Ser Jorah. "You two should get something to eat. I'll be back."

They both nodded as soon as some servants entered and placed bowls of steaming soup on the tables that surrounded the hearth. The Ironborn immediately sat down and began to viciously consume their food as Theon and Ser Jorah joined them.

Jon followed Lord Reed through a corridor and up a flight of stairs. They were heading up the larger tower and finally made it into Lord Reed's personal chambers. Inside reminded Jon of the great hall. The bed seemed to be what amazed him the most when it looked as if the legs of the bed seemed to grow from the stone floor.

Lord reed sat down in a chair at a large desk and invited Jon to sit in front of him. He grabbed a clay container and two mugs from the top of the desk and began to pour ale into them. "Before we begin," he said, "You'll be happy to know that before I left, Brandon and Arya returned to Winterfell."

Jon lost all of the air in his lungs when he heard that. They're alive, they're safe, and they're home. "How did they look?" Jon realized what a foolish question it was. Lord Reed never met any of them before.

"Older than you probably remember," Lord Reed said, trying to keep Jon happy.

After taking a minute to settle on some of the best news he had heard, he finally asked Lord Reed, "who is my mother?"

Lord Reed took a drink of the ale he poured and set his mug on his desk. "Your mother is Lyanna Stark."

Jon froze. Whatever joy he felt was replaced by pure shock. His eyes seemed to dart from side to side and they slowly fell to the ground. He couldn't seem to form any words, so Lord Reed formed them for him.

"Ned Stark isn't your real father." Jon looked back up to Lord Reed who looked him with what appeared to be sorrow. "Ned took you in as his own in order to protect you from the fate that fell upon your half siblings, Aegon and Rhaenys. Your real father is Rhaegar Targaryen."

Jon felt like he couldn't breath and he felt sick in his stomach. He felt the urge to vomit rising in him and Lord Reed seemed to see it too. Jon was handed a bucket and poured out everything he could into it. He couldn't even think, his thoughts were going back and forth, one thing after another. After what felt like a lifetime. Lord Reed took the bucket from Jon and placed it off to the side of his room. He gave Jon a clothe to wipe his mouth clean and spit into.

Jon, feeling somewhat better, finally managed to get some words out. "Ever since I knew that my dragons chose me, I've had a feeling that my mother may have been a Targaryen bastard, or a descendant of some kind. But instead I learn it's my father whose blood I inherited that made them chose me. My mother…" Jon couldn't help but feel tears well up in his eyes. "All I ever wanted was to belong somewhere. I didn't belong in Winterfell growing up, not at the Wall where I was betrayed, and now not even the North where a Targaryen bastard is the King."

"Fuck off," Lord Reed told him. Jon looked up at him, startled. He felt so weak, but those two words seemed to crack the trance he was in. "You're speaking as if you're not a Stark at all. Rhaegar is your blood, yes, but Ned Stark was the one who raised you, not him. He is your father as much as he could be. He taught you honor when Rhaegar couldn't. He gave you a home when Rhaegar couldn't. He loved you as his own son when Rhaegar couldn't. You're a Northerner, Jon Snow. A greater Northerner than many of the Lords who declared you their King. You fought for Winterfell when they cowered. You saved the lives of the Wildlings because it was the right thing to do, and that was all the reason you needed right? You went to Dragonstone to make allies with the daughter of an old enemy to save the North. So don't sit there thinking you don't belong anywhere. You're the King in the North, all the living North."

Jon didn't know what to feel after Lord Reed said his words, but he could feel himself becoming calm. After a moment to recover himself, Jon sat up straight, wiping his eye's. "Is Jon even my real name?"

"It's the only name I ever heard Ned call you. I was outside of the Tower of Joy when he came out, holding you. When I asked if you were Lyanna's and Rhaeger's son, he looked at me and just said 'he's my bastard, Jon Snow.'"

Jon didn't see this as he thought he would. His whole life he had been Jon Snow, but now he could be someone else. But after what Lord Reed just said to him, it didn't matter to him as much anymore. "Does anyone else know?"

"Your siblings and my daughter, Meera. But she was told by Bran while they were North of the Wall."

"How did Bran know?"

"He has an ability called the greensight, but his is far stronger than any other. He learned how to see better from another greenseer called the Three Eyed Raven north of the Wall. Now that he has perished, the gift has been passed onto Bran, and now he can see everything, everywhere, at all times, even things of the past."

Jon was amazed. For a moment, he felt like bursting into a great laughter, but he somehow couldn't. he just smiled instead. "How did Arya take the news?"

"When Bran mentioned that you're technically a Sand, she objected and demanded that your name is Snow. When the question of calling you cousin was asked, she looked ready to kill anyone who didn't call you their brother."

This finally gave Jon the push to send him into laughter. He was still confused, but he felt whole. He already knew much about his mother Lyanna and only a bit about Rhaegar, but he felt better. He felt free of all things. "You should join the others for some food, my King. You'll need as much strength as you can get for the ride to the Finger. You have a beauty to save after all."

Jon felt slightly uncomfortable when he said that. Daenerys was now his aunt, but he still felt something inside him growing for her. "Thank you, Howland." Jon stood up and left he room returning to the great hall. When he got there, the Ironborn were gone, most likely retired for the night, but Ser Jorah and Theon were still there.

"Is everything alright?" Ser Jorah asked.

Jon revealed a friendly grin to both of them. "Never better."

* * *

The morning that followed was a quick one. Everything outside was covered in a thick frost and the mud was nearly ice. The sun had finished rising as soon as the rescue party had departed the castle on their way to the Finger. Unfortunately, they could only go at a slow pace because of the cold weather endangering the horses. However, for Jon this was a perfect opportunity for Lord Reed to teach him some important lessons.

"I heard that you sing a song to your dragons."

"Aye, I do. They taught it to me in a dream."

"Could you tell me what this dream was about?"

Jon described how he turned into Ghost and was atop a mountain howling and listening for anyone to say anything to him, but instead he heard the singing.

"Amazing. Do you know understand what that dream was?"

"I can only imagine that I must've warged into Ghost in my sleep."

"Aye, that you did. You have the potential to become better."

"I've tried to do it on occasions, but I never seem to be able to."

"Well luckily for you, there's a warg here who can teach you whenever we have a moment. Though those may be very rare considering where we're headed. The second time is always the hardest. You can't just force your way back to what your body felt when it did the first time, you just have to let it happen."

They weren't in the best position to try it at the moment, and the roads began to soften enough that they could pick up the pace. Within the hour they were galloping throughout the swamps. The trees soon started became denser and the air less humid. They were getting closer to the forest that was between them and Flint's finger. Around midday, they all stopped to feed and water their horses. Jon horse was next to Ser Jorah's and the silence between them turned very cold. "I heard my cousin was the one to declare you King in the North" Ser Jorah said. Finally, something.

"She was" Jon confirmed. "My brother Rickon was heir to Winterfell and she named me all the same."

"I've never had the opportunity to meet her. Can't imagine what else she's like if she did something like that."

"She fiercer than any warrior I've met."

Ser Jorah seemed astonished "Is she?"

"When I first spoke to her to ask for aid, I was barely able to hold my ground if not for Ser Davos. And when we had the parley with Ramsay Bolton, she threatened to rip his cock off and feed it to his dogs."

Ser Jorah looked absolutely frightened for a moment. "I'm glad she doesn't know I'm here then."

They shared a laugh together, but it was ended as they heard the crannogmen packing up. "We should talk more when this is over."

"We should, but until then," Jorah mounted his horse as soon as Jon did his, "Let's go save the queen."


	26. Daenerys V

Daenerys

Despite being kept a prisoner, Daenerys's captors had locked her in the captains quarters of the ship she was on and gave her decent meals. She didn't know who captured her, or where she was going. All she remembered was being attacked in her room in Dragonstone and waking up in the ship. The windows were covered and the men who gave served her meals didn't have anything that hinted their identity. Nothing in the room hinted at who took her.

The days that went by were long since she had nothing to do in order to pass the time. Early on, she tried to deduce who took her. The most likely answer was Cersei, but the ship didn't feel like it was a Lannister ship and they had been sailing far longer than they would to reach King's Landing. It could've been a Greyjoy ship, but she had seen the ships of Yara's fleet, but this ship and this one was far better in quality. It could have been, but she continued to think. There was the possibility of it being a ship from Essos, maybe some of the former masters had sent to bring her back to kill her.

After trying to determine who, she instead tried to determine why. If it was Cersei, why not just have her killed now? From what Tyrion said, she liked to make a spectacle from things so she might be having a public execution. Or she would be tortured and made an example out of. If it was Euron Greyjoy, why weren't they going to King's Landing? He wanted to be king and delivering her would be the fastest way to get there. Maybe he had something else planned. If it was the masters, there wasn't any chance for them to return to power. They might just want to kill her to satisfy their pain of losing their livelihood.

Daenerys thought of all of that on her first day, but the rest of the days become unbearable as she couldn't seem to expand her ideas. Today though, she finally was able to find something to pass the time. Last night, she had a dream similar to the last one she had. It all felt so real and she knew it wasn't but she couldn't help but let herself go along with it.

She was inside of a room that was most likely part of a castle, but it felt less regal and more like home. She sat in a chair next to a hearth that was ignited with white flames. One her lap sat two creatures. A silver baby dragon and a black wolf pup. She didn't know why, but looking at them made her feel happier than she had ever been. They were curled up together, sleeping while she sang to them.

"Though the winds of winter blow

They will never scare the crow

For when the king came striking down

Our steel did break his crown

And then the skies did fill with light

Our brothers have won the fight

And the one who lost did win

And the greatest of ages did begin

The wolves will howl and the dragons cry

Through fire and ice, together we'll fly"

She remembered the song from her first dream when she had woken up, but this one was different. This one sounded like the song was about something that happened, rather than something that was going to happen.

She didn't seem to care though. She remembered both versions of the song as if they were carved into her mind. For hours she just sat in her bed and sung them, thinking what meaning they had. The more she thought about them, the less she focused on what they meant and more on how the song sounded. In both dreams, they song seemed to one that was meant to bring peace to whoever sung it and those who heard the words.

It wasn't an hour later that she could feel the movement of the ship start to change. It felt like it was slowing down. She finally could feel that they were no longer moving forward. The only movements came from the ship floating in the water. Her door opened and four men entered. They wore no armor, but they each carried a sword. "Come with us," one of them spoke as he took a step forward to her. Daenerys sat up from her bed slipped on her boots. As she stood up and approached the men, two of them fell behind her while the other two stood in front of her.

She was finally outside after what felt like weeks of being trapped in a room. She looked up at the sails and finally understood who took her. "I assume this is Pyke?" she asked as she looked out to the island they anchored at. None of the men responded. The two in front of were began to walk and she didn't immediately follow, she was shoved forward from behind. She scoffed at them as she picked up her pace as they disembarked the ship.

From the docks, it was a rather long walk to the castle, but they seemed to get there quickly. Daenerys began to feel the cold sink through her clothes given that they weren't the best one for warmth. This was further north than she'd been in Westeros so far and the colds of winter were beginning to surround the lands of the south. Before they reached the gatehouse, Daenerys was already shivering. She'd spent all her life in the warmer climate areas of the world, this was the first she began to feel of what it was in the cold.

As they finally reached the gates, Daenerys could see out in the sea hundreds of ships. This couldn't be the whole fleet though, only a small portion of it. The rest had to be at King's Landing. They all walked into the castle grounds and over a stone bridge leading into the first keep. Once they were indoors, Daenerys could feel the warmth of the fires lit and finally stopped shivering. She didn't know much about Pyke, but she had to assume that the room she was in was the throne room. The roaring fireplace had a kraken carved into the stone around it and next to the fire was a large chair, hardly worth calling a throne. A man sat on it and seemed to notice her arrival.

"Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen," the man said. He stood up and turned to face them. Daenerys assumed that he was Euron Greyjoy. "Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea," he began to approach her as he listed her many titles, "the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, and the rightful queen of Westeros." His men parted as he stepped right in front of her. She made sure to show no emotion to him and keep herself strong. "Did I forget anything?"

"Luckily for the both of us, no." She told him, keeping her regal figure.

He only smiled at her, his face making her feel uneasy. "I'm must admit, when I first heard all the titles you gave yourself, I was a bit envious. If I'm not mistaken, your titles represent your braids do they not? I'm familiar with the Dothraki customs." He was the first one to ever notice that. He walked away from her a picked up a jeweled goblet from a table and began to drink the wine it had. "Though I'm a bit confused, how is it you assumed that all of your titles are victories?"

"What makes you think they aren't?" She was legitimately curious at his thought process.

"The Mother of Dragons. I've heard the story of how you walked into Khal Drogo's pyre and were found with three dragons after the flames died out. But you and your husband weren't they only one in that pyre, were you?"

"I burnt the witch you murdered Drogo in the flames."  _'Mirri Maz Duur.'_

"She killed Drogo?" he bagan to pace as he continued to talk. "That's a bit strange. From what I was told, you were the one that killed him."

"I was the one who trusted her and fell into her lies."

"Oh no, no, no, no, you didn't fall into her lies. You ran into them. During my travels, I met one a Dothraki who was a bloodrider to the great Khal Drogo. He told me about how you knew the price you had to pay for her magic, you knew she would take the life of your son, and you did it anyway." It wasn't true. She didn't know what she would gain and what the witch's true intentions were. Euron smiled as he looked at her. "You're not fooling anyone. You keep telling yourself that you didn't know she meant to kill your family, you didn't know she didn't care for what you did for her." He could see past her face and into her mind. "I'm sure you didn't know that the price you paid would awaken your dragons, but it was worth it after all wasn't it? What's a great warrior and a child compared to three creatures that alone could each destroy entire cities."

"What is you want?" She finally snapped.

Euron finished the wine and set the goblet down on the table. "Now now, we mustn't get ahead of ourselves." He walked right up to her and began to fiddle with strands of her hair. She didn't look into his eyes, but she could tell he was hoping she wouldn't. "You have nothing to fear, you won't be harmed." He stopped playing with her and began to walk away. "At least for now." He sat back down in his chair and returned to whatever he was doing before she walked in. "Put her in the cell with my wife." He ordered.

Doesn't was confused. He had a wife? What about marrying the queen and becoming king? Was he just going to kill whoever she was once the time came? The men behind her shoved her forward again as she was led deeper into the keep. Soon they were in a place that only torches could give light to. The gates of the cells of Pyke were all rusted and the floor was covered in many puddles of sea water.

Each cell was separated by a stone wall and there was hardly any room to lie down. You either had to sit or stand. Many men were imprisoned and many of them were stripped naked and covered in dried blood emanating from horrible scars.

Daenerys finally was brought to an open cell which was much larger than the others. The jailor stood by holding the gate open, smiling sickeningly. Before she entered, she was seized by two of her escorts and held in place. She felt a hand grip the collar of her dress and the coldness of steel touch her neck. The blade didn't cut her skin though, it tore through the fabrics of her clothes and they were ripped off of her, exposing her body. They tore her boots off and finally tossed her into her cell, gawking at her body.

"Fuck me," one of them said, "if Euron killed anyone who fucked her, I'd still do it."

"He won't kill you if we fuck her?" another asked.

"No, instead he'll cut your cock off like his nephew."

"Well damn," the other said as he nervously gripped his pants. They all took one last look at her before closing the gate to her cell. Everything around her was freezing. She curled herself up, already shivering. The light the torches gave was vague and she could barely see her surroundings.

"Daenerys?" a woman said. She looked across from her at the other end of the cell and could see someone who looked and sounded familiar.

"Yara? Is that you?" Daenerys crawled forwards to get a better look. Yara seemed to inch towards her before she came into full view. She was as naked as she was. Daenerys remembered that Euron said to put her with his wife. "What has he done to you?"

"Too much," she said. "He decided to act like a Targaryen and marry his own niece among other things." She held out her hand and revealed she was missing her middle and ring finger.

"I swear to you, when we get out, he will pay."

Yara only laughed at her. "Who's going to save us? Theon? That cunt of a brother ran away from me. He left me to Euron. He let me get captured!"

"There are others who can save us. Some of the people I trust more than anyone in the world arrived after you left." Daenerys then noticed her figure seemed rounder. Yara's belly was slightly swollen and she gasped when she realized what it meant. "Please tell me he didn't."

"Since you asked so nicely, he did." Yara sat up against the cell bars and faced the wall. "I'll kill that fucker if it's the last thing I ever do." Daenerys couldn't help but feel sad. Yara seemed unable to. "You should pray he gets bored with you, then he might kill you quickly."

"He said he wasn't going to harm me yet."

"Then remember what I just told you when 'yet' comes."

"Why didn't he kill you then?"

"He keeps me alive so that he can get Theon to give up the rest of the fleet and so that many of the Ironborn remain loyal to him."

"What do you mean?"

Yara turned her head to the side so project her voice. "More than half of his fleet are loyal to him out of fear. They know he keeps me captive and as long as I'm alive, they won't revolt."

"Then there's a chance."

"No there isn't. all of the captains of those men are locked down here with us."

Daenerys slumped backwards and continued to shiver. She wouldn't let herself break in this place. She new someone would come for them.  _'Please hurry'_  she called out in her mind.

"Come sit with me." Yara told her. Daenerys crawled over to her and sat right next her. As Yara wrapped her hands around her, Daenerys deeply inhaled as the coldness of Yara's body was just the same as the stone floor. "Don't worry, it will get better after a while, just wrap your arms around me and move them.

"I don't understand."

"We won't be as cold now that you're with me. If you want to stay warm, keep yourself moving, or get with someone and either hold them or fuck them."

Daenerys didn't seem to understand still, but she followed what Yara told her to do and began embraced her. She moved her hands along Yara's back and could start to feel some of the cold begin to fade.

"So what happened while I was away?" Yara asked.


	27. Jon X

Jon

 

 

The hills that surround the coast provided the perfect cover and the rescue party met with eight crannogmen waiting for them near the Finger. They left behind their horses and proceeded on foot. The castle was in sight and miles off the coast were four Greyjoy ships. The sun was near setting as the scouts reported their findings to the lord and king. “The Ironborn have made a small blockade, however they are at peace with the docks and Lord of the Finger. As long as the ships aren’t disturbed, the people can go about their days without worry.”

“I see,” Lord Reed said. “Do you have boats ready for us?”

“We acquired three from Lord Alyxander Flint with promise of the deaths of all Ironborn. Before they had made the peace terms, some of the townsfolk were killed as an example.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. We only need one ship, the other three will remain here and be given to Lord Flint. We’ll make for the ships after twilight has passed.” The crannogmen bowed their heads and returned down to the docks of Flint’s Finger. “As for the rest of us, all we can do is wait.” The rescue party stuck close to the base of the hills, but kept a few men near the tops to spot any unwanted persons. Lord Reed took this opportunity to try and show Jon a bit about warging. “I met with a few wildlings while I was at Winterfell and invited some of them to Greywater Watch. Iwas able to get an understanding of how their type of warging is different than that of the crannogmen. When you warg, the animal itself will initially fight against you unless you’ve made a strong bond with that animal. The Wildlings tend to focus on achieving full control over their animals, but the crannogmen focus on achieving peace with our animals.”

“I met a warg beyond the Wall, didn’t like him at all. Whenever he was warging, it seemed like it was harder and harder to come back to himself.”

“If you take control of the animal, it will instinctively fight back. If you aren’t strong enough, you’ll lose that find and your mind will have a small piece of it torn from your soul. If you make peace with the animal, it welcomes you.”

It was starting to make sense to Jon, but what he still couldn’t grasp was how to actually enter the mind. He never asked Orell how he did it because he avoided him every chance he could get. “I understand what you mean. When I was Ghost, I could feel like we were both there. He knew what I wanted to do and at the same time I knew what he wanted to do.”

“That’s what having peace with the animal is. You raised and trained your direwolf since he was a pup. His bond with you is an unbreakable one. Achieving that with a new creature takes years longer.”

“So how do I do it again.”

“As I told you before, you don’t do it. You let it happen. It’s very difficult to explain.” Lord Reed took a minute before trying to give an example. “Do you know any other languages?”

“No, although… never mind.”

“You’ve started down a path, you might as well finish it.”

“During the battle for Winterfell, when my dragons came to save us, I said something I’ve never heard before, but I knew what it meant to my dragons. I think the word was ‘dracarys.’”

“High Valyrian for ‘fire’” Lord Reed told him. “The Targaryen in you has blessed you with the potential to be even more than you are now. There is magic in you that you don’t understand yet, but will in time.” At this point, the light of the horizon was nearly gone and one of the spotters whistled a signal that it was time. “We’ll continue this when we secure the ship and are on our way to Pyke.”

The men gathered together and made their way to the docks, the cover of darkness concealing them. The Ironborn loyal to Yara and Theon all split up amongst the three boats. The crannogmen and Lord Reed filled what remained on two while Theon, Jorah, and Jon all boarded the third. With the Ironborn rowing, the boats glided quietly on the water. The noise of the oars mixed with the sound of the ocean. As the boats were nearly at the targeted ship, the crannogmen began to remove their cloaks and their shirts. With nothing but their pants and bronze daggers strapped to their hips, the slipped out of the boats and underneath the water. To everyone’s surprise, they made no noise at all in the whole process. The boats drew closer and before they reached the ship, the crannogmen appeared from below the surface of the water all around the ship and began to climb aboard from the sides. As the boat Jon was in just pulled up next to the ship, the sounds of light thuds could be heard and Lord Reed appeared above deck, tossing a rope ladder to them.

Jon climbed aboard and all of the Ironborn crew were dead. “Five of my men will stay to clear the other ships. Use what clothes and armor you can find to disguise yourselves. There were eighteen Euron loyalists on the ship and all their bodies were lined up as the five crannogmen slipped away in the darkness of the water.

“How’d they move so quiet like?” One of the Ironborn loyal to Yara said.

“I think it’s because they eat frogs” another guessed.

“Enough” Theon said “get the ship ready for sail while we dump the bodies.” Jon, Jorah, Howland, and the remaining crannogmen all found uniforms of their size and disrobed the bodies they belonged to. Jon preferred to keep his boots rather than the one’s his chosen body were wearing since he could smell them from a good enough distance. He put on the last of the armor with the kraken sigil and swung a coat over his arms. He had to admit, he liked the feel of it more than he did a cloak.

Jon turned to Ser Jorah and asked him “how do I look?”

“Too pretty to be Ironborn. Try wearing a helmet over your hair.” Jorah tossed him a crude leather helmet to try on similar to the one he was already wearing.

Jon brought the helmet up to his head, but the smell inside it was worse than the boots. He held it away and dared to not put it on. “That smell is not of this earth” he declared.

“What you whining about?” Jorah asked. “my helmet stinks, these gloves have crumbs in them, these boots feel like there’s some kind of sludge in them. But I look like an Ironborn more than you right now, and I smell like one.” Jorah walked away as Jon looked back at the helmet. He held his breath as he quickly placed it on his head. The smell seemed to not be as strong afterwards. He guessed it was because he hair was trapping it.

By the time the ship was ready, Theon spotted a small light on another ship, waving back and forth. “The other ships are clear, let’s get going!” The anchor was raised and the sails lowered. The winds were fair that night and they began the journey to Pyke. Jon and Jorah assisted in dumping the bodies into the ocean as Theon began to discuss the plan to infiltrate Pyke with his men. The moon was shining high above them all, nearly full. They would only have about a week to make it.

* * *

 

The ship had just sailed past the island Great Wyk and the SaltCliffe was on the edge of the horizon. Jon had left Longclaw back at the Greywater Watch since it would stand out and was far too valuable to lose to Euron fucking Greyjoy. He settled for the best steel sword he could get from the Ironborn they looted before dumping. He couldn’t seem to be of use on the ship since he knew nothing about sailing and the Ironborn constantly told him to move out of the way. He deicided to have a few moments to himself and did what he usually did when he wanted some peace. He stood at the helm of the ship and stared of to the ocean, brooding.

His thoughts drifted to Winterfell and his anxiousness to see Arya and Bran. Rickon wound will have been healed already and he might even be drilling with the other children already. From what Lord Reed told him about bran, he wasn’t the same person really. Jon didn’t believe that. He would see Bran to be what he once was someday. He was more excited to see Arya than the others. He was told that she carried a small sword with her when she arrived. _‘Did she really keep Needle this whole time?’_ He then began to feel worried about Sansa. Was she doing alright as the lady of Winterfell? Ever since the encounter with Littlefinger in the crypts before he left made him feel uneasy. He didn’t care what would happen. The next time he saw Petyr Baelish, he would kill him. His thought then began to linger on Ghost and his daughters. Ygris and Lyarras. He couldn’t believe he had named one after his mother unintentionally.

Ygris seemed to be more attached to him though. She was just as energetic and obnoxious as Ygritte was. He remembered her eyes and how staring into them made you think they were on fire. Her eyes, he could see them staring back at him. He could see her whole face looking back at him. Something didn’t feel right. It was as if she was right in front of him.

“Jon!” a voice called out. He broke out of the trance he was in and turned around to see Theon looking at him. “Are you alright?”

“What do you want?” he asked, annoyed.

“I think now’s about the time for me to get into shape to be brought to Euron.” Theon plan involved him being beaten bloody enough to be as if the men who supposedly found him enjoyed it.

“And what are you telling me for?”

“I figured you’d want to be the one to do it.” He never looked at Jon’s face.

“You thought wrong. If you thought I would do it because you betrayed us, you’re wrong.”

“We both know I deserve it.” He mumbled.

Jon seemed to be hit with a wave of realization at that moment. The Theon Greyjoy he knew when he left Winterfell was gone forever. The man before him was someone else. He was broken, but slowly piecing himself back together into something else. “You killed Ser Rodrick, you killed two farm boys, and you burned Winterfell to the ground.” Everything he said to him seemed to hit him like a hammer to an anvil. “If none of that had happened, my brothers would be dead. Rickon and Bran would be flayed instead of in the protection of Winterfell.” Theon looked up at him. This must have been the first he was hearing about this. “Sansa would still be a prisoner to Ramsay and Arya wouldn’t have returned home. You did betray us, you betrayed Robb, and you betrayed our father.” It took Theon a moment that Jon was calling Ned Stark his father. “Our father treated you like a son, regardless that you were a hostage. He was more to you than your real father ever was.”

“I know, and I betrayed him.”

“We both felt like outcasts. I thought I belonged on the Wall and you with Balon Greyjoy. Turns out we were both wrong.” Jon took a few steps closer to him, forcing Theon’s gaze to look up. “You are a Greyjoy, but you’re also a Stark.”

“You always seem to know what to say and when to say it.”

“I don’t, trust me I don’t always. But this is one of the times when I do. I can’t forgive you for everything you’ve done, but I do forgive what I can.”

Theon acted shaky the whole conversation, as if he was scared someone would hit him. But now he seemed to stop, he seemed to lose a bit of the misery in him. “I never burnt Winterfell.”

“What?”

“It was Ramsay, he led the sack of Winterfell, not me. My men turned on me and gave me to Ramsay.”

“Then that’s one less thing to forgive.” Jon walked away from Theon and could tell that he was very afraid, but he could also see a small bit of foolish bravery rising.

* * *

 

Hours had passed until finally, the Pyke came into sight. They passed by many of Euron’s fleet as they got closer to the island. Theon was beaten and bruised and the others in their full disguise, making sure to hide anything that hinted they were Northerners. Theon was being kept out of sight below deck as everyone could feel eyes watching them.

The tension seemed to last too long for them when they reached the docks. As they prepared the ship for disembarking, Lord Reed slipped next to Jon. “My men and I will stay on the ship while you go up to the castle. When the time is right, we’ll slip in.”

Jon didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. He followed one of the Ironborn below deck to retrieve Theon. He was already weakened from the beaten he had, but he could still walk. His hands were bound in front of him and he kept a very small blade up his sleeve. They escorted him above deck and as soon as Euron’s loyalists saw him ‘captured’ they began to mock and laugh at him, but Jon noticed that their very some who looked displeased and averted their eyes.

As they made their way up to the gates of the keep, they attracted a large group of Euron loyalists behind them, wanting to see what would happen. This was proving to be bad since they were starting to become outnumbered. Ser Jorah walked up next to Jon and whispered to him, “No matter what happens, you and Daenerys have to make it out of here.”

Jon couldn’t say anything back to him, there were too many watching them. He didn’t want to think it would come to that. As the approached the gates, they were stopped by a guard on the Ramparts. “The fuck you want?” He shouted.

One of Theon’s men did the talking for them. “We’ve come for the family reunion between uncle and nephew!” Theon’s men and the others who followed laughed aloud.

“Give me a moment!” the guard walked into a tower and the gates began to open. The all walked inside, proceeding with caution.

Jon couldn’t help but feel nervous as the gates closed behind them. Each step he took his feet felt heavier than they have ever been. They drew closer to a stone bridge that led to the inside of the great hall. But before they even reached the bridge, every one of them could her a woman screaming from inside. The noise seemed to echo all throughout the island. Jon could recognize the voice was Daenerys’s. He wanted to run inside as fast as he could, sword drawn and kill everyone inside, but Ser Jorah lightly shoved his shoulder, “hurry up!” he said casually. Jon looked back and could see just as much worry on his face. Another scream sounded as they drew closer to the doors to the Great Hall. When they reached them, they opened and inside Jon saw who he assumed to be Euron, standing over Daenerys holding a knife covered in blood. He was licking the blade clean, smiling as he did it. Daenerys was one the floor, naked and grasping her right leg from where blood was spilling. She looked directly at Jon and her face seem to scream _‘help me!’_

Jon couldn’t contain himself anymore, but before his hand could reach for the pommel of his sword, Jorah shoved him again. He didn’t understand how he could watch this. Jorah had been guarding her for years, and now here she was, bleeding on the ground naked, while a maniacal madman licked her blood. Jon walked slowly with Theon. Euron finally noticed them and looked upon his nephew. “Little Theon!” Euron tossed the knife far aside and approached him quickly. He cupped his hands onto Theon cheeks, if he got any closer he might as well kiss him. “My dear nephew! Oh, how I missed you!”

“We caught cockless here and ten of his Ironborn trying to steal our vessel at the Finger. They now lay at the bottom of the sea, without cocks like their great captain.” Theon’s acting leader said. Euron seemed to be buying the act.

“Tsk, tsk, Little Theon. You should’ve known better. You really think you could take me on with only twenty men?” Jon some of the others seemed to be caught off guard and almost blew their cover.

“My King” the leader said, “I said there were only ten.”

“Were there?” he asked as he approached the leader, “Because I count twenty of you.” Immediately the loyalists behind them drew their swords and began attacking. As Theon’s men were being cut down before they could retaliate, more of Euron’s men appeared from within the great keep and rushed them all.

Jon and Jorah drew their swords and began to defend themselves with the few Ironborn left that were able to draw their own as well. One of Theon’s men cut his bounds and he picked up a sword from the ground. The sounds of clashing steel sang in the Great Keep and more and more of Euron’s men seemed to enter.

As Jon, Jorah, Theon, and the remaining five of Theon’s men formed a circle of defence, more than a score of other Ironborn surrounded them. “You honestly thought it would be this easy?” Euron question seemed to be directed to all of them. “I left those ships at the Finger with orders not to return unless I told them to, even if they were to capture you.” Euron’s gaze turned over to Jon and Jorah. “And you two, you think that just because you dress like Ironborn that you look like Ironborn? I’ve seen the whores of King’s Landing put on a better performance than you two.” He chuckled at them before looking back to Daenerys. “I’m disappointed, really I am. I was hoping that there would’ve been something to make this day into a song of legend. The Kraken King trapping the Dragon and the Wolf.” He walked over to a table and picked up a large axe that rested upon it. He walked over to Daenerys and let the axe blade frely swing near her arms. “I want you to tell me honestly, what you thought would happen.” He looked extremely bored with them. “If I don’t like what I hear, something’s gonna get cut off.”

Jon didn’t break his gaze with Daenerys’s. Her eyes were red from tears, and her skin was turning a slight pale from the loss of her blood. “Theon was going to be the one to kill you and claim your fleet as his.” Jon said. “We hoped that the tale of a cockless man killing a kraken would show the Ironborn he was more than you ever could be.” Most of it was made up on the spot. Euron wanted something to amuse him, but that was the best Jon had.

Without even hesitating, Euron brought his axe up and swung it as fast as he could down at Deanerys. When the axe hit the ground behind her head, Jon gasped, praying to every god that he missed. Daenerys remained as she was, but very shocked. She didn’t seem injured. Euron knelt down and picked up long strands of her hair. He looked over at them and began to laugh. “If this is how you react a queen getting her hair trimmed, I can’t wait to see you when I actually hurt her.” He left his axe embedded in the stone floor and put his foot on Daenerys’s neck and pushed down. “Drop your weapons” he said calmly.

Jon looked at Daenerys and could she her mouth the word ‘no’ as she began to choke. Jon couldn’t bear it and let go of his sword, and the others followed after him. Euron removed his boot and walked over to Jon. A devilish grin grew on his face as he looked at Jon. “I was never going to kill her today. That’ll happen later, and I’ll make you watch every last second of it as I peel the flesh off her skin like the flayed man of the Bolton banners.” He turned to his men and  spoke to one of his officer’s. “Were there any men on their ship?”

“Three sir,” the officer replied. “I must admit, they wore the best disguises out of all the ones here, but we thought they could use some improvement, so we shot them full of arrows and that seemed to make them look just right.

Jon began to tremble. Lord Reed was dead? _‘Dammit. Dammit Dammit DAMMIT!’_

Euron laughed as he walked back to Daenerys. “Bind her wound and put her back with Yara. Throw these three in with them. As for the rest,” his gaze fell upon Theon’s men, “kill them then hang their bodies from the bridges for all to see.”

A group of men approached Jon and Jorah and punched them each in their stomachs many times. Theon suffered the same fate, but he fell to the ground, curled up and crying out like a little boy feeling great pain. another pair of men seized Theon and began to drag him away with Them to the cells. Jon and Jorah were dragged behind him and as the screams and pleas of the loyal Ironborn could be heard in the hallways.


	28. Daenerys VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why daenerys was on the ground bleeding when the others arrived

Daenerys

The days in the Pyke cells seemed uncountable without the light of the outside entering anywhere to tell the time. But the times when it went from cold to freezing helped indicate when the warmth of the sun would set. The meals Yara and Daenerys were given were nothing more than bread and water. The only thing that seemed to improve for the two of them was the chance to beat the cold since Daenerys was with Yara now. They didn't talk much except when Yara felt utterly board. Sometimes the other captives in the cells would talk with each other, but those conversations were nothing but gloomy distraught. But even then, the jailors and guards would shut them up.

Yara was sitting back against walls with Daenerys beside her. "Why haven't you told Snow about the letter?"

"I don't know" Daenerys told her. "Tyrion and Varys told me to wait, but a part of me didn't want to anymore."

"Didn't?"

"I'm sure how close we are to each other, but I've found myself starting to grow closer with him."

"The kind of close you have with your friends, or the kind you hope keeps getting closer?"

"The second one" Daenerys responded. "When we first met, I made sure he understood all I have suffered and that I pulled through it all to be who I am destined to be. But in all the time I've been with him on Dragonstone, he's never once did the same to strengthen his opinion or anything about himself."

"Sounds humble, I find that kind a bit boring."

"The only one who seemed to try and show me who Jon is was his Hand, Ser Davos."

"Of House Seaworth?"

"You know him?"

"One of my brothers was hired by him during Roberts Rebellion to help smuggle food into Storm's End. Anyways, you were saying."

"He told me about Jon's dealing with the dead beyond the Wall and how he took a knife in the heart for his people."

"Literally or metaphorically?"

Now that Daenerys thought about it, when she asked Jon about that, he brushed it aside and never gave her a straight answer. "It had to have been a figure speech. No one takes a knife in the heart and lives to tell about it."

"Except he never tells about it, seems like." Yara let herself slouch done more, your pregnancy getting uncomfortable in her previous position. "How much do you actually know about him? He used to serve at the Wall, didn't he?"

"He did. He's told me a lot about himself and his home in Winterfell and about the Army of the Dead beyond the Wall."

"What else has he ever told you about his time at the Wall?"

Daenerys realized that besides Jon telling her that he's fought the dead, see never asked him about what he did at the Wall. He always inquired about her from time to time whenever they dined together, but never once did she ask him about being in the Night's Watch. "Nothing beyond what I've told you."

"You say he broods a lot and the only people I know of that brood are people who've done things they regret. The Jon Snow you know is the King of the North. Maybe you should learn about the Jon Snow who was a man of the Watch."

"I can't imagine how many stories he would have to tell about his adventures beyond the Wall."

"None probably."

Daenerys looked at Yara confused. She heard about the Great Ranging beyond the Wall that was led be Jorah's father. Varys told her that Jon had been a part of it. "What do you mean?"

"There is never any adventure north of the Wall, only survival." Yara sat up looking distressed. "On my thirteenth name day, my father gave me my first ship to captain as I pleased."

"You were a captain at thirteen?"

"I would've been a captain sooner, but my father had a rebellion." Daenerys seemed lost for words as to not add insult to injury it seemed. "I wanted to sail the world as any Ironborn does, and I thought I'd start with the lands beyond the Wall. I heard that some Wildings traded with people south of the Wall very frequently."

"What would they have to trade?"

"When you're north of the wall, good steel and food mean more that gold every possibly could. So I started a trade line near Eastwatch. I gave the Wildlings better furs and weapons in exchange for things of interest they carried and the stories they had."

"They never attacked you?"

"They couldn't. My first ship was small, but compared to a log raft, it was practically a fortress on the sea. One time, some Brothers of the Watch came with us because they received word that a group of missing rangers was found and the Wildlings who found them were will to sell them back to the Wall. When I traded with the Wildlings, I charged them what they knew of the rangers. They told me that they've been beyond the Wall for three years. They were in a party of twelve when they left and two of those twelve were found with the surviving three."

"What happened?"

"They were headed to the Frostfangs, but encountered a clan of Thenns. The leading ranger was eaten alive by the Thenns and two others were killed and roasted over a fire."

Daenerys was horrified. Those were the kind of people Jon let beyond the Wall? "And the rest?"

"They escaped, but the only route they take was further north where no one dared to go. Three more died when they finally made it to somewhere safer, but they were all starving. When the next one died, they couldn't contain their hunger any longer."

"That's enough, I understand now."

Yara looked directly at her "no, you don't. The world is a lot different North of the Wall. I've never returned after that because the stories of what else possibly lurked in those lands scared me too much to find out."

Daenerys couldn't imagine what else could. But then again, the only reason Jon met her was so he could tell them what else.

Just then, the sounds of footsteps approaching were made and two Ironborn appeared in the light of the torches. They approached their cage and opened it. "Dragon Queen," one spoke "Euron wants you."

Daenerys, not wanting any threats made to include Yara, stood up and walked with them. They gave her nothing to cover herself as they climbed out of the dungeons. She started to felt slightly warmer than she did in her cell. The warmth of the sun seemed to soak into the towers of Pyke. As they entered into the Great Keep, Euron was sitting by his hearth as he was when she first saw him. When she entered, he looked stunned. "You can leave us now" he told his men. They left her alone with him as he stood up and looked at her body. "I won't lie to you, I've never this hard when I've seen a woman." He circled around her, trying to get a look into every nook and cranny he could. "Such beautiful hair soiled with filth. He sat back down in his chair and gestured her to sit in one across from him. Daenerys remained where she was, defiant to take commands from him of any kind. He didn't seem to care as he began to smile at her. "I was bored, and I wanted to a game with you." He pulled out a knife from his belt and looked at his reflection in the blade. "It's very simple, I going to ask you questions, and you have to tell me either yes or no. If you say something except one of those words or lie, I get closer."

"Closer to what?" She asked.

"Having a taste of the dragon."

"And if I win?"

"I'll let you go back to my wife. It's as simple as that, anyone could do it." He stood up and twiddled the knife in between his fingers. "Do you really have three dragons?"

Daenerys guessed he was going to toy with her until he would ask her things that could lead to her defeat. Until then, she would have to play along. "Yes."

"Very good, you understand. Now, have you ever been to Westeros before?"

She was born in Dragonstone, "yes."

"Have you ever killed someone?"

"Yes." She killed the Khals in the Dosh Khaleen.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes."

He began to click his tongue at her as he walked up to her. "The first lie."

"It wasn't a lie."

"And another. You might have been glad when you took the life, but I can see right through you. You don't enjoy killing." He used the knife to cut off a lock of her hair. He brought it to his nose and smelled it deeply, his eyes rolled back as he did. "Do you believe in the rumors of dead men beyond the Wall?"

She didn't answer immediately because she wasn't sure. They did exist thousands of years ago, but she still couldn't believe that they were returning, but Jon believed it with all his heart. "Yes."

"Do you want to see them?"

"No."

Euron backslapped her across her face and she let out a yelp. "Yes, you do. You believe in them, you wish you were wrong, but the only way to know for sure is to see one of them. You want to as much as I do."

Daenerys regained herself and stood up straight to him. "Yes."

"Much better. Now, this next one is easy." He held the knife up to his face and waited for Daenerys to look into the blade's mirror. "Are you in love with someone right now."

"No."

"So easy, yet you still lied."

"No, I didn't."

"Then why did you keep calling out a wolf's name in your sleep on the ship?" This shocked Daenerys. Did she really? She wasn't in love with him though, she only felt close to him, but she did tell Yara she hoped it would be more. "I'll give you this only chance to save yourself from your lie, do you know who it is?"

"Yes."

"Does he love you?"

She didn't know. He probably only saw her as an ally. Surely there was someone in the North who had his heart. "No."

Euron laughed at her quietly, "I must confess, that one was a trick question. The answer could've been yes or no. But either way, we're going to find out very shortly." The knife quickly swung down and pierced into her right thigh. She screamed as she buckled and fell to the floor. This was the first time she'd ever been stabbed, it was agonizing. She clasped her leg as he knelt down to her. "That voice is too amazing. Fucking you must be a divine experience." She let out another scream as Euron pulled the knife out. She clapsed the wound as the blood began to spill out.

Immediately after, the doors to the Great Keep opened and Many Ironborn began to enter. Daenerys forgot the pain for an instant when she saw them escorting Theon Greyjoy, blood covering his face and clothes. She thought he was captured, but then she saw two men next to him dressed as Ironborn. Jon and Jorah both looked at her. Jorah did his best to not look concerened for her, but she could see in his eyes he was aching. Jon on the otherhand looked mortified, but kept his composure. They shouldn't have come. Euron knew that they were. Too many thoughts were racing inside her head and the pain in her leg pulsed and she seemed to be in a daze as Euron began to talk with them. She saw as Euron's men attacked them and she couldn't tell who each Ironborn who was killed belonged to.

Euron seemed to say something as it all came to a standstill. The next thing she saw was a large blade wave in front of her face. She saw Jon say something to Euron before she felt something hit the ground hard behind her head. Jon and Jorah looked terrified at her as she could finally understand what was being said. "If this is how you react a queen getting her hair trimmed, I can't wait to see you when I actually hurt her." She felt his boot push down on her neck and she couldn't breathe. She heard Euron order them to drop their weapons.  _'Just run Jon! You can get out of here if you just run!'_  Her eyes met his and she could see him looking at her like no one ever has before.  _'Fucking run you idiot!'_

They dropped their weapons and Euron's lifted his boot off of her neck. The next thing she knew, men began to beat Jon and Jorah and Theon was on the ground, screaming and fidlling with his arm as he was kicked and punch. The men who joined them were killed as they were all being dragged in the direction of the dungeon.

Some women surrounded Daenerys and began to tend to the stab wound in her leg. It hurt so much still, and the bandaging was just torn clothe. When they finished, some men lazily carried her to the back to the dungeons. The darkness surrounded her as she was approaching her cell. They placed her inside and locked the cage. Daenerys could already hear Yara yelling at Theon and much anger was present in her voice. "You fucking cunt! I should've left you when you came back to me! I hope you're killed first so I can at least enjoy one thing about you!" She constantly hit him and he didn't fight back. Jon and Jorah were in the cell as well. All three of them were stripped as she and Yara. As Theon let Yara attack him, Jon and Jorah knelt down beside her, bruised all over from the beatings.

"Khaleesi," Jorah said, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault for not protecting you when they came."

"Shut up" she said. The pain still ached greatly and her body remained tense. "I don't care where you were then, I care about that you all came here. Why in any hell would you come here?"

"We weren't going to leave you," Jon said, "We weren't going to let you die."

"And you thought you could do that with a handful of men on an island surrounded by hundreds of ships?"

"We had a plan to kill him, but he saw right through us."

"Anyone could've. Why did you come?"

"I just told you-"

"I understand why Jorah and Theon came," her tone was both angry and desperate, "but why did you come? You're the King in the North. You're the one who's supposed to lead his people against the dead. Why are you here?" She had to hear him say why.

He didn't say anything for a while, as if he was battling in his mind whether or not to answer. "Because," he started, "I won't let any more of my family die in these wars."

It wasn't what she was hoping to hear, but she didn't expect it all the same. "Are you calling me you're your family?"

"I've guessed for a long time that my mother was some descendant of a Targaryen somewhere, until I was told who she was."

_'Did he finally know?'_

"It turns out I do have Targaryen blood, but not from my mother."

Daenerys was puzzled. "Ned Stark has a Targaryen ancestor?"

"He is not my real father. He lied to keep me safe after Robert killed my real father at the Trident in his rebellion."

He looked at Daenerys like he did before when Euron's boot was on her neck as she finally realized who he meant. "You're Rhaegar's son?" Those words seemed to freeze everyone who heard them except for her and Jon.

"And my mother is Lyanna Stark."

She seemed to recall the face of Rhaegar she saw in a dream. Jon was the spitting image of him. She couldn't believe it for a moment, but it couldn't not make sense. She reached her hand up and cupped his face as if checking to see if he was real. "Blood of my blood." As if to be reminded, Daenerys felt the cold of the cells hit her all at once like a wave of the ocean. She shivered greatly and began to curl up.

"Move it you twats," Yara said as she pushed them aside. She helped Daenerys sit up and held her close, keeping them both warm. "You, old man, what's your name?"

Jorah looked like he was insulted. He wasn't that old. "Ser Jorah Mormont."

"You're a bear of the North? With that much hair on your body you truly are, put it to use and help keep a carrying woman warm."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Grab me from behind and use that fur on your chest to keep me warm you idiot!"

"Please Jorah," Daenerys said. Jorah seemed skeptical at first, but he obeyed and did as he was asked.

As he embraced Yara, she let out a satisfying sigh. "You men of the North really are warm in the coldest of places." Jorah didn't say anything. "Oy, King Snow," she called out, "I don't care if you're her nephew, but your warmer than me so share it with her."

Daenerys looked at Yara. If they weren't in such a position, she would be rejecting what she said as much as she could. But they were in such a position and today was much colder than usual.

She looked over to Jon and saw him being hesitant. "Get over here, it's too cold to care." As he inched forward to them, Daenerys finally saw them, as did Yara and Jorah. The scars on his chest and the one located over his heart. He seemed to notice them looking, but he ignored them and held Daenerys gently. She felt his chest on her back and it was like wearing a warm cloak. Northerners really were warm.

"Who wants to be the one to ask?" Jon said.

No one said anything for what felt like hours, but was only seconds. Daenerys decided she would be the one. "Jon," she started, "did you die at the Wall?"


	29. Jon XI

Jon

 

The situation before everyone could not be denied as awkward. Five people, all naked in a cell, holding each other to keep from freezing. Jon had finally unveiled what happened the night he died, hoe his brothers planted their knife into his body and the day of his awakening.

“I think the worst part of it was when I first touched my scars. Seeing them made me hope I was dreaming, but feeling them made me know that I wasn’t. I didn’t want to be alive.” No one said anything to him. What could they? “The worst part about it all wasn’t the pain when I was stabbed, I was lying in the snow, cold and alone.”

“Do you remember what it was like to cease living?” Yara asked. “When you were finally gone, what did feel like?”

Jon hesitated, should anyone know what dying feels like? “It was like falling asleep except…” He thought back to that moment the light around him faded and he slipped into the nothingness. “I was begging that I would wake up.”

Yara seemed to look out into the distance, pondering his words. “During the War of the Five Kings, I heard rumors about a group of outlaws. They were led by a man from House Dondarrion. They said he’d been killed at least five times.”

“Six” Theon said. “When I was coming back to Pyke from Winterfell, some of the sailors on my ship talked about it as well.”

“I don’t give a daman how much he’s died. The point is that he has. If it’s true, maybe he could give you some answers.”

Jon was confused “but I don’t have any questions.”

“That’s a lie” she told him. “You don’t die and come back without asking anything.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. But I’ve buried whatever I wanted to know when my sister turned up at Castle Black. I’m alive again, and that’s all I need to keep living.”

Yara sighed, seeming to have lost this conversation. Daenerys finally spoke since she asked Jon the dreaded question. “What is it like North of the Wall?”

Jon looked at her head. It was right in front of him and she didn’t turn to look at him as he held her. “Beautiful in a way.” That seemed to get her attention. “When you’re on the Wall looking north, seeing what you think is everything you possibly could see, and then you journey out to what lies beyond, it’s amazing.”

“It’s not dangerous? Every day isn’t a day of survival?” She asked as if she knew what the true north was like.

“Aye, it’s dangerous. But not every day was about survival.”

“What did you do on the Great Range?” Jorah asked.

Jon looked over to him. He knew Jorah wanted to know why his father went north to his death. “We went to investigate rumors of Wildlings gathering together into a massive army. We stopped at a Wildling’s cabin that belonged to a man named Craster. It was there I first saw them.”

“The White Walkers?” Theon asked. Just saying their name in the cell seemed to send shivers down everyone’s spine. “Craster was known for his wives. When his wives gave him daughters, he’d marry them and they’d give him more daughters.” Jon could feel the disgust everyone felt. “But his sons, they were a gift to the gods. I followed him one night into the woods. He carried his newborn son with him into the forest and left him there. Then I saw something take him, and then I saw its eyes, bluer than ice.

“Why was there a mutiny?” Jorah asked.

Jon was surprised Jorah knew about the mutiny. “When we left the Wall, three hundred brothers made camp at the Fist of the First Men. There was a battle with the Walkers and less than thirty made it back to Craster’s keep. The ones who rebelled were all criminals before men of the Watch. Only a few of my brothers escaped.”

“And where were you?” He sounded like there better have been a good explanation.

“I was a prisoner of the Wildlings, but we avenged your father.” Jorah seemed a bit relieved when he said that. “Every mutineer found justice.”

Jon was the only one who really did any talking for the next few hours, telling everyone about how he became a Wildling and the Battle of Castle Black. He seemed to attract the attention of some of the other prisoners in the cells. The occasional question coming from someone who wasn’t in the largest cell.

It was all cut short as four Ironborn guards entered the dungeon and opened their cell. “Your majesties” one of them mocked. “King Euron orders you to his presence.” They held swords up to all of them, being cautious no one tried anything stupid.

“I can’t walk.” Daenerys said.

“It would be our pleasure to carry you” the Ironborn said, grinning maliciously.

Jon stood up and reached down and grabbed hold of Daenerys, lifting her off the ground and into his arms. “No need, I’m all she needs.” He noticed her look at him, her brow arched. He realized how he worded that and turned a small hint of red for a moment before following the Ironborn. They closed the cell behind them and led them out of the cold dungeons. Some windows finally came into view and revealed the night sky. The stars were bright, and for a brief moment, Jon could see the moon. It wasn’t yet full, but barely.

As they continued to walk back the Great Keep, Daenerys seemed to rest her head over Jon’s chest. “Your heart’s still beating,” she whispered. What did she mean by that? Was she trying to say he was still alive, because he noticed a long time ago. “It’s a good heart,” she said.

Jon remembered something Ser Alliser told him at Castle Black _. ‘You have a good heart, Jon Snow. And it’s gonna get us all killed.’_ That was his curse it seemed. Everyone but him seemed to die. He was sure that wasn’t what she meant though. It sounded as if she was glad to be where they were.

They finally entered the Great Keep and instead of sitting by his fire, Euron was standing at a table, looking down at something, but his body obstructed the view. He turned to them and smiled, s if greeting returning friends. “Now that is a beautiful sight. A beautiful queen in the arms of her handsome king. It’s like a bed time story.” He slowly walked over to them, but kept his distance as if constantly observing them. “Where are my manners, the queen must be feeling tired after her injury from this afternoon.” He gestured to his chair by the fire. “Please, I insist.”

Jon did not dare to try anything with this madman. He looked at the chair carefully, checking for anything that could be dangerous before he carefully placed Daenerys on the chair. She sat up as best she could and he stood in front of her, as if acting as a shield.

He looked at them both for a moment, before letting out a snort. He picked up a candle on another table to his side and walked up to Daenerys. Jon would’ve stepped in front of him, but he had to stay put as four crossbows aimed at him. Euron offered the candle out to Daenerys “I’ve heard that fire doesn’t even hurt when you touch it. Might I see?” Daenerys slowly accepted the candle and Jon looked at her as she silently moved her fingers slowly through the flame. Euron seemed legitimately surprised, “Remarkable. This is the first I’ve seen of something like this.” He stood up and walked back to the table he was at earlier. “Tomorrow is the full moon, they day you’ll all die. Well all them except you.” He pointed directly at Daenerys. “I can’t have your dragons burning down what will be mine very soon. Even if all I did was keep you prisoner, they would still wreak havoc upon us all once they’ve figured out where you are.” He picked a box from a crate next to the table and reached inside and pulled out a glass bottle. It was clear glass, and inside was a green liquid. It wasn’t wine for all Jon knew.

Euron uncorked the bottle and poured a drop of the liquid onto his finger. He grabbed a fresh candle and coated the tip with the substance and approached them again. “So to make sure they don’t I’m taking precautions. And if this works out how I hope it will, I might even maim them to my will. He held his candle to the one Daenerys held and the candle ignited, but the flame was green. Green fire, Jon heard about such a thing from Davos. He said it was called Wildfire. Euron ogled at the color of the green before he immediately held it under Daenerys’s arm. She gasped and dropped her candle, moving her arm out the way. She looked at her arm and saw a shade of red where the green flame touched her. She felt it.

“What is that?” She asked.

He only smiled at her and whispered, “a fire so wild, it even burns dragons.” He nodded at his guards and the grabbed hold of Jon and pulled him away from Daenerys. Two other Ironborn grabbed her and yanked her from the chair and threw her onto the floor. She winced at the pain in her leg, but that was the least of their worries.

Euron grabbed the bottle on his desk and tossed it up in the air to himself. “You know the rules, yes or no.” Jon didn’t understand what he meant, but it looked like Daenerys did. Euron looked right at Jon, “Does he love you?” His smile was too excited, waiting for what she had to say.

Jon didn’t even know for himself, it was too strange at the moment. He wanted to, but she was his aunt. But then he remembered what Missandei told him what Qhono said. _‘When Qhono gave you your sword, he said that any man who looks at the Khaleesi like you do would never hurt her.’_ He then remembered what Davos told him when they had a moment away from the Painted Table _. ‘You’re not allowed to say anything back to me because if you do you’d be lying. You’re not going because you need her help, you’re not going because she needs yours. It’s not about the dead or Cersei or anything fucking thing in the world matters right now except her, isn’t it?’_

“Yes,” she said. Jon looked at her, she was right.

Euron seemed pleased. “Wonderful, let’s see him prove it.” Euron threw the bottle at at Daenerys and before it her, Jon pulled himself free and wrapped himself in front of Daenerys protecting her. The bottle broke against his back and he could the liquid wildfire start to burn already. The next thing he knew, a flame touched his back and the liquid ignited. He screamed out as he never had before. he had been burned be fire before, but not like this, and this was not a natural fire, it was evil. He fell on his back and rolled on the floor, trying anything to extinguish the flames. He could smell his flesh starting to cook and it was horrible.

Euron seemed pleased with the reaction as he signaled his men. They carried large pouches of ash and through them onto Jon, dousing the fire. It all felt worse than the knives. He stopped screaming, but he couldn’t stop shaking. His breathes were rapid and the pain was so great. Euron laughed as he took a deep smell of the room. “Cooked wolf! Smells delicious!” He waved his hands and his men grabbed Jon and Daenerys and began to carry them back to the dungeons.

In the cell, Daenerys was shoved in and Jon was tossed. Immediately, everyone surrounded Jon and gasped at his burns. The rolled him onto his front and looked where he was hurt. He upper back was roasted and the wounds extended onto his left shoulder and onto the side of his arm, stopping at his elbow. He couldn’t understand anything they were saying, but he knew they were panicking. He felt dazed and everything was beginning to blur. The only thing he could really focus on were his thoughts. _‘Is this it? don’t want to die again. I want to go home. I want to see my family. I want to see Ghost. I want to see my daughters.’_ The voices around him behind to be pieced together. He could start to hear them as he was turned over and sat up. They were careful not to touch his wounds. ‘I want to see the dragons. Rhaegal was named after my father, I wonder what it’s like to fly. To be a dragon.’ He wasn’t sure how, but he began to see visions, all at once. He could see through his eyes, and the eyes of five others. He could see Ygris and Lyarras, flying over Winterfell. He could see Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, flying over Dragonstone. He was flying over dragonstone.

“His eyes,” he heard Theon say “what’s wrong with his eyes?”

The voices around him then became overshadowed by what was practically crying. Through the other eyes he looked out of, he could hear crying. Words kept repeating over and over. ‘Where’s mother? Where’s father? Where’s mother? Where’s father?’

Jon could feel the fear of the dragons, he felt them lost, they knew their parents were hurt. ‘Over here.’ The thought seemed to strike all of their minds as they all looked out to the horizons that surrounded them. Jon blacked out after he felt his connection lost. ‘Did they hear me?’

Things seemed to be like they were when he died, it was nothing. He was nothing. But all of that ended when he heard singing. A woman was singing. He recognized the voice, it was Daenerys. She was singing to him the song he sung to his dragons, and it was beautiful. Something that made him want to wake up. His eye’s started to blink open, the darkness of the dungeons was brighter than the nothingness of his sleep. He was on his side that wasn’t burned, his head was resting on something soft, and he could feel a small hand, stroking through his hair. The pain finally rushed through him, but is was bearable now. Daenerys didn’t seem to realize he had woken up, she just kept singing to him.

“Though the winds of winter blow

They will never scare the crow

For when the king comes striking down

Our steel will break his crown

And then the skies will fill with light

Our brothers have won the fight

And then the one who was lost shall win

And the greatest of ages shall begin

The wolves will howl and the dragons cry

Through fire and ice-”

“We will never die.” He finished.

“Jon!” She stopped stroking his hair as he looked up at he as best he could without feeling pain.

“How do you that song?” Jorah, Yara, and Theon gathered around him.

“Never mind that, how do you feel?” she asked.

“Getting stabbed didn’t hurt as much. How long was I out?”

“I think a few hours maybe longer. We’re not sure.” Jon sighed, he honestly didn’t care, but what else was he supposed to ask. “Jon,” Daenerys sounded sad, “we’re not sure when, but Euron plans on an execution soon.”

“He’ll kill all of us except for Daenerys and Yara.” Jorah commented.

“How?” Jon asked.

“They said you were practice.”

“Wildfire.”

“Well,” Yara said, “there are worse ways to go.”

“We’re not going to die.”

“Jon, face what’s in front of you. There’s no hope at all.”

“No,” Theon said, “there’s still a chance. They only found one of the blades I had.”

Everyone looked over to Theon, there was nowhere he could had hidden the blade. It was very thin and small, but they were all as naked as they could be. “Where’s the other one?” Jon finally asked.

Theon turned his left arm over and they could all barely see the shape of something underneath his skin. There was a cut that was constantly festered at so it wouldn’t heal. “We might not live through all of this, but we can make sure Euron doesn’t either.”


	30. Jon XII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally it's here! This chapter was such a pain to write. Why? Connecting all the sequences. I hope you all enjoy reading it as I have.

Jon

The pain of the burns continued to sting, but it felt more like something was constantly eating him. From what the others could tell, it was only his skin than was burned. The flames were doused right before they reached his muscle. Jon wasn't allowed to move at all while they discussed any possible way to kill Euron and make it out alive, and to be honest, he wasn't upset about it where he was at all. Yet for all they discussed, they seemed to be getting nowhere as the hours passed by.

"We could take out the guards that come to get us," Jorah suggested. "Get their weapons and gear and put up a better fight." Jorah was still wrapped around Yara seeing as she wouldn't let him leave.

"The most you could get without more Ironborn arriving are their weapons." Yara said. "Clothes and armor would take too long to take off and put on. Even then, there would be too many to fight through."

"So, if we can't arm ourselves, then how do we get close with Theon's blade?"

"We might not half to," Theon said, "Euron's a madman, but he might get close enough for us when he's about to kill us. I can try to end him there."

"And if the Ironborn don't turn to you when he's killed, you'll all die." Yara said, sounded concerned for the first time. "But if they do, you'll be the one to take the Salt Throne. Killing Euron will pay the ironprice for the throne."

"I don't want the throne," Theon said. "I'm not fit to rule."

"No, you're not." Yara spat. "But, it's the only chance we have."

"You're the one who was meant to take the Salt Throne-"

"And I failed! With what I am now, the Ironborn will never follow me, but they will still follow a Greyjoy. They'll follow you if you show them you can lead." Theon didn't say anything, he seemed lost for words.

"Let's plan on that when it happens," Jorah said. "What if we left the blade with you here and you escaped behind us?"

Their discussion was cut short by the footsteps of the Ironborn approaching. They all looked at each other, wondering the same thing. "What do we do?" Theon whispered.

"You kill our uncle." Yara told him. The guards opened the rusted gate for what might've been the last time for them. Theon folded his arms across his chest, playing scared as he stood up to hide his wound. Jorah walked over to Jon and carefully pulled him off of Daenerys. Jon gave her one last look, as if to memorize her face so he wouldn't ever forget it, as he got to his feet. Walking wasn't a problem, but moving his arm was. Now he knew how Rickon must've felt with his injury.

Jorah walked with him, but turned back to the cell. "Goodbye, Khaleesi." He turned back and followed the others. Each step was like a step closer to the doors of the hells themselves. They might open, or they might remain closed, either way, they would meet them.

When they entered the Great Keep this time, dozens and dozens of Ironborn were gathered, Euron in the dead center of them all. "And now they arrive!" He shouted. All the Ironborn around him cheered and raised their weapons as high as they could into the air. Euron seemed to get drunk from the power around him. He never seemed happier than Jon had ever seen him.

Jon, Jorah, and Theon all stood waiting for Euron to make his next move. Theon kept himself slightly hunched over, Jon noticing him fidgeting with his arm. The pain of it looked agonizing, seeing as Theon couldn't help but whimper as he did. No one else seemed to notice him trying to retrieve his blade.

"Tonight!" Euron shouted. "We will show all of Westeros the power of the Ironborn! My precious brother rebelled against the North twice, and failed! I have taken their King, and after he burns, I will send his people his corpse, and I will kill every Lord, every soldier, every child, and we will drown them all for the sharks!"

Jorah and Jon looked at each other. "He loves hearing himself talk," Jorah whispered through the noise.

Jon snorted and couldn't resist a tiny smile. "I've heard worse at Castle Black from Alliser Thorne," Jon replied.

As Euron finished his speech, he approached the three naked men, still wearing his smile. "A direwolf, a bear, and a cockless kraken!" His men all laughed at Theon. He looked like he was on the verge of tears. "Tonight, we shall watch them burn in Wildfire, as will the fleet watch them! Bring them outside!" Euron's men grabbed the three of them and escorted them outside the Great Keep and all of the Ironborn followed. They cared nothing about Jon's injury and the pain of their grip into his burnt flesh felt horrible. Jon looked over to Theon, they seized him by his wrists, and the tip of the grip of the blade was barely out of his skin.

The night was cold and the ground was colder as they all walked out to the bridge that led to the gates. The mud was dry and frosted, cracking under the steps of those who walked on it. The sky was perfectly clear and the moon was full. The light of it illuminated all the land of the island and the ships in the ocean. They exited the gates and on the narrow part of the hills of Pyke were hundreds of Ironborn were chanting Euron's name. They were all surrounding an area where three Ironborn stood next to large open barrels, full of Wildfire.

Jon, Jorah, and Theon were each placed a few paces away from the barrels. Euron stood in front of all his men and addressed them, yet again. "Who wants to watch them burn!?" The entire army of men cheered for Euron. "Then what are we waiting for!?"

Theon started to cry, louder than a child would. Euron turned around and laughed with his men at him. He trembled and shivered as Euron approached him. The only reason he was still standing was because he was held up by the Ironborn. "Little Theon!" Theon looked up at Euron, like a lost dog to its master. "Why do cry? Are afraid to die?"

"I am!" Theon screamed. "I don't want to, please don't kill me!" The Ironborn continued to laugh as Theon pleaded.

"Release him," Euron ordered. Theon dropped to the ground as his captors let go of his wrists. He continued to cry into the ground as Euron knelt down to him. "Little Theon," he spoke softly, "my nephew, you're a Greyjoy, an Ironborn, you would be drowned in the ocean and returned to our God in his halls. But, what kind of god would want a cockless man?" He gave Theon a soft hug, as if to bid him goodbye. Theon returned the hug, his hands reaching to his wrists. Euron let go of him looking into his nephew's eyes, smiling mockingly. "What is dead may never die."

"What is dead may never die." Theon's hand shot up beneath Euron's head and planted his blade into Euron's jaw. The blade pierced the bone and went into his skull, nailing his jaw shut. As Euron began to scream, Theon pushed the blade the rest of the way up. The tip came out above Euron's upper jaw, and one side of it cut deep into his right eye, the metal exposed out of his skull. Euron jerked back and felt to the ground, screaming and grabbing his face still unable to open his mouth.

From behind him, the three Ironborn who stood next to the barrels of Wildfire, kicked them over behind them. As the green liquid splashed out onto many behind them, the Ironborn who kicked the barrels ignited the Wildfire with flint and set many ablaze. They drew their swords and killed those around them, getting closer to Jon, Jorah, and Theon, all of whom were confused, and on guard.

Jorah freed one hand and elbowed a man who held him and then punch the other in the face, grabbing his sword and he stumbled backwards. Jorah cut down the men around Jon before they drew their weapons and made his way to Theon, who jumped onto one of the men behind him, and bit down on his nose, ripping it off.

Jon had picked up a sword, and immediately parried a strike and slashed the attacker across his face and following it up with a slash across the neck of another would be attacker. The Wildfire began to spread lightly and it created a wall for them to keep the other Ironborn away from them as they fought those around them. The skill of the Ironborn wasn't up to par against Jon and Jorah, even with their whole bodies exposed and Jon's injury. One of the Ironborn who kicked a barrel over approached them, removing his helmet and revealing himself.

"Howland?" Jon said, shocked. "They said they killed you!"

"They killed three of their own after we switched places with them and put the first arrows in them." He told them as he parried an axe and killed the owner who swung it. The Ironborn on their side of the Wildfire all lay dead, except for Euron who managed to on his feet and dive of the cliffs, into the ocean. Even with the light of the moon, he disappeared into the shadows of the water. They looked back at the green flames and the bodies they burned. "Those fires won't last for long, and I'm afraid even with our skills, we don't have any way to slip off this island safely." The crannogmen disguised as Ironborn stripped some of the dead soldiers of their coats, handing them to the naked fighters.

Jon slipped his coat on, ignoring the stinging in his shoulder. They heard the sound of the gates behind them as they closed, trapping them. Jon looked back at the Wildfire, the flames nearly low enough for the Ironborn to cross over them. Jon looked over to the other men beside him, they all looked back at him, realizing that this was their last stand. Jon raised his sword up, preparing for the oncoming horde of soldiers. "Winter is coming with fire and blood." He knew was part of two houses that had importance to him, it's about time he embraced them both.

"Here we stand." Jorah said, raising his sword.

"What is dead may never die." Theon said.

"The songs never end." Lord Reed said, his men repeating after him.

Ironborn began to jump over the green flames as they had nearly died out. Dozens of men running at them screaming. They all held up their weapons, ready to meet them, but it was all cut short at the sound of screeching, echoing all throughout the world to hear. The sound came from the towers of Pyke, and the source was approaching quickly.

From behind Jon, massive streams of fire shot down from the sky and burned all the men approaching them. Jon looked up as did everyone else and saw Ygris and Lyarras flying down, burning anyone who got close to their father. They burned dozens of Ironborn that rushed towards their father before moving on to the ships in the ocean. The sea ignited in flames as many ships were catching dragonfire.

As Jon watched his daughters begin to destroy the Ironborn ships, three more dragons, far larger than Ygris and Lyarras, flew in from the left and joined them in burning ships, except for one of them. The large green one, Rhaegal, flew down to Jon and his men, landing in front of the flames. He unleashed a burst of fire at the Ironborn, creating another wall of flames, but the flames rised much higher. He screeched at all of them, before lowering his neck down to the ground, looking directly at Jon. Without even thinking, Jon tossed his sword aside and ran over to his neck. He reached out to Rhaegal's scales and climbed atop of him. As soon as he gripped onto Rhaegal's spikes, the dragon spread its wings and they took to the skies.

The sensation Jon had was unlike anything he ever had. The wind that brushed past them was freezing, but Rhaegal's body kept them warm. It was exhilarating and amazing at the same time. Jon had only ever seen the lands north beyond the Wall and south behind it at height like this, and he was getting higher. Rhaegal finally turned and dove down to the sea, the ships growing closer and closer. The spped was so intense that Jon had no idea how the dragon would be able to keep from crashing. Once the dragon finally pulled up, Jon could barely breathe. The Ironborn who were left on Pyke were still armed and wouldn't surrender until they received the right message, and Jon could think of one. He felt he wouldn't be able to command Rhaegal yet. The dragon let him on top of him, but Jon felt like that was the extent of all he could do for now. This was only the beginning of their connection, but he needed it to be stronger now. He had to warg into the dragon again.

He focused on how he felt the night before the Battle of the Bastards, he focused on what he felt last night, but he couldn't recapture that feeling. He tried speaking to Rhaegal in his thoughts and aloud, but the dragon refused to listen. It was then that he remembered what Lord Reed told him.  _'You don't do it, you let it happen.'_

 _'I am a direwolf of House Stark, and I am a dragon of House Targaryen, the blood of a dragon.'_  Jon let himself see through the eyes of Rhaegal, feeling the dragon's intentions, its desires, its needs. He turned Rhaegal's gaze over to Pyke and saw they Ironborn, still frozen in place watching their ships burn. _'Trap them,'_ Jon thought,  _'surround them with fire. Protect the castle, protect your mother.'_

Rhaegal seemed to be more obedient now that he knew his mother was in the castle. Rhaegal swooped over to the land, Jon feeling the heat growing within the dragon.  _'Dracarys!'_  Rhaegal shot streams of fire down near the Ironborn, surrounding them. The flames didn't touch any of the men, but the blast was so powerful that some of the Ironborn were pushed back by the force when the fire first hit the ground. They looped around the towers of Pyke and came back for a second attack. The next blast spread across the grass of the hills and trapped the Ironborn within the walls of fire.

At this time, Rhaegal and the other dragons had landed outside the wall of flames, screeching at all of the Ironborn within them. The men all quivered and most of them even dropped their weapons and fell to their knees, surrendering. Jon ceased warging and returned to his own senses. He dismounted Rhaegal approached the fires. These ones didn't look threatening to him at all, they looked welcoming. Without hesitation, he walked through the fire, unharmed. The coat turned to ash when he reached the other side. The rest of the Ironborn parted ways for him, dropping to their knees. He walked past them and heard many of them whimpering, and even smelt a stench in the air of men who shit themselves. He reached the top of the hill and walked through the other flames and approached his company, feeling exhausted. He fell to his knees and almost passed out, but he just needed to rest. He felt all of his energy drained and his body felt like it weighed tenfold. Jorah and Lord Reed both knelt down with him, trying to hold him up, but Jon waved them off and stood up. "Let's free the others."

Jon approached the gates and after the dragons let out another screech, the gates opened quickly. The dragons then took to the skies, circling around Pyke as Jon and the others returned inside the Great Keep, everyone who they passed was on their knees, as if begging for forgiveness.

Inside, Lord Reed and his men obtained proper clothes for Jon and the others. Jon however rejected a shirt until his burns would be properly tended to. The coat didn't only sting, the threads felt like splinters. It wasn't moments later that Daenerys and Yara both appeared clothed with the other prisoners and the two crannogmen. Daenerys was helped by Yara, not letting anyone else near her.

"Theon!" Yara shouted. Theon turn and faced her, but kept looking down at the ground, as if ashamed. Yara let go of Daenerys and approached him. Surprisingly, she embraced him with a tight hug. "You did it, little brother. Pyke is ours again." She let go and made sure he looked at her. "Is Euron dead?"

"I don't think so," Theon said. "I shoved the blade up into his skull, but he jumped into the ocean and disappeared."

"He ran from you?"

Theon nodded, still looking as if he did something wrong. "That's even better. Any Ironborn who can't face death doesn't deserve to be called an Ironborn. You'll have won over many of his supporters. They'll look to you to be their lord."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"Mean to what? Stay alive and take back what's ours? Theon, I failed our men when Euron attacked us, but this is your chance to show them all that you are still a Greyjoy, an Ironborn."

He still didn't to seem to approve of any of it. "I don't know if I can, I've never been one for leading."

"Then I'll help you, we'll all help you."

Theon didn't say anything, he just nodded and returned a hug to her.

Meanwhile, Jon was discussing things with Lord Reed. "Can you get a raven to Greywater Watch and the Finger? We'll need men we can trust to man Pyke until the Ironborn have all sworn their fealty to whoever we need them to."

"It shall be done, your grace." Lord Reed said before he joined his men.

Jon turned to Daenerys who was sitting down in the chair next to the hearth, Jorah standing next to her. He finally got to look at her for how she was now. The way Euron cut hair seemed to be uneven. The longest she would be able to have it if she trimmed it would be just longer than shoulder length. She looked over to him, eyeing his scars again. "If we could, I'd like if we could speak in private." He told her.

She looked over to Jorah and nodded at him. He looked at Jon once before he walked over to the others. "This is as private as it will get right now," she told him.

"I don't mean to dampen the mood of the victory, but I think we should discuss the North's allegiance."

"I still intend to take all of the Seven Kingdoms."

"I know, and I still won't bend the knee, but I might not be the one who has to soon."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm planning on telling the Northern lords about my parentage when I return."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I'm hoping one of two things I think will happen. When they find out I'm a Targaryen bastard, hopefully they'll have a change of heart about you and me."

"And the other thing?" She inquired.

"They'll hate me for what I am and renounce me as King in the North."

Daenerys thought about what he said before giving her response. "Let's continue this tomorrow, I need some proper rest after all that's happened."

"Aye, that sounds best." He bowed his head before returning to Lord Reed. He actually wanted to talk to her more, but he wanted real privacy.

* * *

Morning came quickly and the aftermath of the battle was a sight to see. Jon, Theon, Jorah, Daenerys, and Lord Reed all gathered in the Great Keep, surrounding a roaring fire in the hearth, their wounds finally treated properly. Daenerys sat in the large chair, her cane leaning up against it, wearing what managed to suit her for clothes. "The Iron fleet is ours?" she asked.

"Most of it," Yara told her. "The dragons destroyed eighty-nine ships last night and some of the Ironborn fled before the destruction could reach them. As of now, we have just over six hundred ships in our fleet.

"What of Euron? Is he dead?" Daenerys asked.

"After he jumped into the ocean," Theon said, "he disappeared. Some of the men saw his ship escape south."

"That raises another question," Yara stated. "There are still one hundred ships from here to Dragonstone that have yet to know about Euron's defeat and choose who to follow, but there are two hundred ships unaccounted for and no one knows where they went."

"No one?" Daenerys asked. "Surely someone knows."

"No one's come forward, but one of the captains who was held prisoner overheard that Euron had a task for all of the captains of those ships, but he doesn't know where they went."

"I'm sure Euron wouldn't run away more than he has," Jon said, "he might be going to King's Landing to regroup with Cersei. Even with his defeat, she can't afford to lose anymore allies than she already has."

"I'll send a raven to Varys," Daenerys said, "his spies might know where he'll be."

"Until then, we need to focus on what to do next." Yara said. "Now that the better half of the fleet is ours, we can commit to the blockade of King's Landing."

"I'm not so sure about that," Daenerys said. "Until we know what has become of the ships that are missing, I won't risk the fleet as I have already. The Iron fleet will remain here and rebuild what it's lost."

"As you command. I'll organize the captains and lords with Theon."

"Actually, I'm leaving that to you." Theon told her.

"What do you mean?" Yara asked.

"I have something I have to do in the North."

"You're not coming with me to Winterfell." Jon told him. "The Northern lords will want you killed if they know you're there."

"I know, but I betrayed your family, and I need to answer for it."

"You did answer for it when Ramsay broke you." Yara told him. "You answered for it when the Ironborn you were forced to turn over were defeated. You answered for it when you rescued Jon's sister from Ramsay."

"I'm sorry, but I have to go. Bran and Rickon are the ones to decide that."

Yara didn't respond immediately, she just shook her head at him. "If you die, I'll never forgive you."

"I'll make sure that doesn't happen then. It won't matter anyway."

"Dammit Theon stop saying things like that!" Yara shouted.

"I can't have any heirs, you still can. You're the future of the Greyjoys." Jon noticed Daenerys seemed affected by this. She looked discouraged and sympathizing.

"Fuck the future, I care about you right now, about my brother."

"If I don't do this, I don't think I'll ever be able to keep being Theon. There'll always still be Reek, somewhere inside me."

Yara seemed as if she was about to break down, but Ironborn weren't easily broken. "Damn you, I can't lose my last brother, so you better come back."

"I will, one way or another."

"You won't be going alone." Daenerys said. Everyone's attention turned to her, very surprised. "I'll be joining you and Jon at Winterfell. I wish to meet the Northern lords, and them me."

"Your grace," Jorah said, "I must object to this. "There is great hate towards you in the North and all it would take is one man with a crossbow. If his bolt found its mark, he'd be considered a hero."

"That's why I'll be flying there. I'll be returning to Dragonstone first to speak with Tyrion and Varys, and then I'll meet all of you at the castle."

"If I may," Jon interjected, "I think if we rode together, it would send a better message. If you want to show the North that you're here to help it, not conquer it, then you'll let them see you as an ally rather than the Dragon Queen."

"I promised you I will fight for you when you bend the knee, but considering what you said last night, you might not be the one who will have to. We'll meet at Castle Cerwyn and ride together."

Jon nodded and smiled a little, approving of her idea. "We'll sail for Flint's Finger when Lord Flint's men and ships arrive tomorrow. Ser Jorah, we'll have you join us and when we regroup at Castle Cerwyn, you'll act as the Queen's escort." Jorah nodded, but still seemed uncertain.

They all concluded their meeting and Jon was approached by Daenerys. "I think tonight, it will be about time we had that chat you wanted." She told him.

* * *

Night gathered, and plans were already set into motion. Daenerys dismissed Jorah from her side in the Great Keep, and she and Jon both walked together to Daenerys's room she was given. Inside was small, but it had enough room for a few luxuries. They sat down at a table that was at the foot of the bed. "I want to hear what you had first to say," Daenerys told him, "because I there's something I want to tell you."

Jon hesitated, feeling even more nervous than last night. "You've only recently known that I had the blood of a Targaryen in me, but I've known for a bit longer. I learned it at Greywater Watch from Lord Reed."

"That's not true, I've known about it longer." Daenerys informed.

"How?" Jon asked, surprised. "None else knew about it except for my… cousins." He wasn't sure about calling them his siblings anymore.

"Do you remember when Grenn was sent to Essos to deliver a letter from Maester Aemon?"

"Did Aemon know?"

"He did, but all he said was that there was one more with the blood of the dragon. I wasn't sure who it was until I learned you had dragons of your own."

"But you didn't know I was your nephew?"

"No, I never thought Rhaegar had any other children. I was certain as was everyone else that Ned Stark was your father."

"He is my father, not by blood. But he raised me as his son all the same. However, I will not deny that Rhaegar is my father by blood, and I think it's time I begin to embrace more of what I am. When we return, I'm going to ask Rickon to naturalize me as a Targaryen rather than a Stark."

Daenerys seemed speechless as her jaw dropped slightly. He could tell she wasn't expecting that, but she was showing a hint of joy. "I was going to talk to you about the same thing. Theon chose an odd time of all times to speak about heirs. We are the last Targaryens, Jon, but you are the future of our family."

"Why do you say that? We're both still alive, and I don't think either of us is planning on dying in the wars to come." He said confidently.

"I can't have children Jon."

"Who told you that?"

"The witch who murdered my husband."

"Has it occurred to you that she might not have been a reliable source of information?"

That seemed to amuse Daenerys, but before she could answer, there was a knock on the door. They both looked at each other, realizing their time together was probably over. "Come in," Daenerys said. The door opened and Jorah stepped inside.

"Your grace, there was a raven from Winterfell for Jon Snow." He handed the raven scroll to Jon, the wax seal unbroken.

This was peculiar. They had only taken Pyke for a day, and it took longer for a raven to get from here to Winterfell. Jon took the scroll and broke the seal. As he unrolled the scroll, he read through it's contents, but he suddenly looked horrified.

"What's wrong?" Daenerys asked.

"It looks like I won't be the one who needs to bend the knee now." He handed the scroll to Daenerys and she read it aloud.

_Jon_

_The Lords of the North have renounced your title as King in the North and have chosen a trueborn Stark to lead them. You are summoned to appear before them and answer for your lack of duty to the North and the actions of collaboration with a foreign queen. If they deem it necessary, you will be renounced of all titles and returned to the Night's Watch to serve as Lord Commander._

_Brandon Stark_


	31. Rickon II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we begin this chapter, I forgot to mention something of note in the last chapter. When Jon and company are saying the words of their houses, I couldn't find the official words for house Reed so I made my own. bIf you're wondering why its about a song, it has to do with the children of the forest.

Rickon

"I still think you could have told him a lot better than you did." Rickon said to Bran, who was sitting in his chair next to his hearth in his solar, Ghost lay on the bed watching them.

"I told Jon the situation, that's all."

"But you made it sound like we're the ones betraying him."

"I'm sorry, it didn't cross my mind."

Rickon sighed, as if exhausted with talking to his brother. "There's got to be a way to get some feelings back into you."

"I still feel emotion, just not as well as I used to."

"Like I said, there's got to be a way to get some feelings back into you." Rickon managed to get a tiny snort out of Bran, but that seemed to be all.

"How's your practice coming?"

"You're all seeing, aren't you? You tell me."

"I keep telling you, it's bits and pieces, I'm trying to learn how to see better."

Rickon understood even though he didn't, which felt ridiculous. "I'm still not strong enough to wield my sword yet, but I have no problems with a bow."

"Osha helped you with that, didn't she?"

Rickon couldn't help but feel discouraged. "Yes, she did. She taught me how to hunt and how to survive, then we were captured." The memory saddened Rickon. He missed her. She never acted like it, but she was more of a mother to him than Catelyn had the chance to be.

"I'm sorry that happened."

"It wasn't your fault, so there's nothing to be sorry about." There was a brief silence between the two of them, it was becoming awkward. "What do you see in your visions lately?"

"The last one I had showed Jon and Theon win against the Ironborn. He rode on the back of a dragon, he seemed like he belonged there."

"He what? He rode a dragon?" Rickon was wide eyed. This was the first he heard of this. "I wish I could ride a dragon. Ygris and Lyarras are almost big enough to be ridden, but I doubt that they'll let me."

"It's not impossible. You need don't to be a Targaryen to have the love of the dragons. Ygris and Lyarras prove that every day when they spend time with us."

"So, it's possible?"

Bran didn't say anything, he just looked back into the flames of the hearth. "I wish to go the Godswood."

"I'll get some help." Rickon said before he left the room with Ghost.

* * *

In the Godswood, Bran sat next to the weirwood and place his hand upon it. His eyes turned a ghost white and he sat there motionless. It always made Rickon feel uncomfortable when he watched Bran do this. Ghost seemed to feel the same way. He looked at Bran as if he didn't recognize him.

Snow began to fall lightly. The flakes of white disappeared as soon as they landed on the Stark boys' cloaks. Bran came back to himself and looked over at Rickon. "What did you see?" Rickon asked.

"Jon and Theon just made it to Flint's Finger. Would you like to see?"

"What? I can't do what you do. I'm not a warg or a greenseer."

"A warg, not yet. But a greenseer, yes. The day father died, we both saw him in the crypts. The day Robb died, you saw it in a dream. The Night Jon died, you saw it in the flames of a fire you made with Osha." Bran extended his hand out to Rickon, offering to show him. "Don't worry, you won't end up like me. I became this way because I made a mistake, and my training happened all at once."

Rickon was hesitant, but he took his brother's hand and he placed it on the weirwood. Rickon felt a sensation flow throw him. The next thing he knew, he was standing next to Bran at the docks of Flint's Finger. "What is this?"

"It is only a part of what I see, every day, every hour, every moment, everywhere." The docks were lively with activity and everyone around them seemed to be in a very joyous mood. "This way," Bran said, guiding Rickon with him.

They walked among many people unloading ships as the left the docks and walked by all the buildings across a road. "Can they see us?"

"No, they can't. Look over there." Bran pointed over to a stable and next to some horses were Jon and Theon. They walked over to them and listened in to the conversation.

"Do you think the lords have betrayed you?" Theon asked.

"I wouldn't say betray," Jon said. "I would say lost faith. Here I am trying to unite everyone to survive, and all they care about is about the dirt beneath them and who it belongs to."

"If I get through this, I'll give you all the support I can."

"You will get through this. Sansa will support you for rescuing her, and the lords trust her."

As they continued to talk, Rickon's attention was drawn to laughing he heard. Across the road at the docks, he saw a small boy playing with a toy sword. He couldn't have been older than four. Something about the boy seemed awfully familiar to Rickon. Rickon suddenly noticed a horse galloping towards them on the road. The boy was right in its path and the horse wasn't slowing down, it was going to run over the boy. Rickon panicked, he couldn't help but scream for help. "LOOK OUT!"

From behind Rickon, Theon sprinted as fast as he could and dove at the boy, moving them both out of the way and keeping him from being crushed. The boy started to cry as Theon got up and checked on the condition of the boy. "Are you alright?" Theon asked, the boy nodding, tears falling from his eye's.

"Theon!" a woman shouted. Theon and the boy both looked over to a woman running from the docks to the boy. She picked him up and held him closely to her. "Seven hells! How many times have I told you not to play at the roads, you could've been killed!"

"I'm sorry mama," the boy cried. He hugged his mother as tight as he could before looking at Theon. "He saved me, mama."

The woman looked over at Theon, wide eyed, as did Theon. "I can't thank you enough, I owe you a great debt."

"You owe nothing." He took another look at the boy as did Rickon. The little boy looked very similar to Theon. "What's his name?" Theon inquired.

"His name's Theon Snow, I named him after his father." Theon turned paler than he already was. Rickon was speechless.

"It's a good name," he told her, his voice shaking.

She smiled at him as she gave a small curtsey. "It is, that's why I chose it. Thank you again." She walked away back to the docks with her son in her arms. Theon couldn't seem to stop watching them until they were out of sight. He turned back and walked back to Jon, who heard the whole thing.

"Do you know her?" Jon asked.

"We spent a day on a ship together when I first returned to Pyke."

Jon seemed to put two and two together after he heard that. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I couldn't. I wanted to but I couldn't." He looked back over to the docks one last time. "It might be better if I don't, for now."

"For now?"

"Now, I have to come back from Winterfell. I finally have something meaningful to fight for."

Jon smiled at Theon. He didn't seem to show it, but they all could tell Theon was happy. "How'd you know the horse was coming? You had your back turned to the road then suddenly you ran."

"You didn't hear someone shout 'look out?'" Theon asked, puzzled.

Rickon froze, they could hear them? Before he could do anything else, Bran placed a hand on his shoulder and they both returned to themselves in Winterfell. Rickon fell backwards into the snow, exhausted. "I thought you said they couldn't see us." He said to Bran, but directed it up to the sky.

"It's complicated. You'll understand soon."

"No thanks. I've had enough of this magic for one day." Rickon brought himself up as a couple of guardsmen approached the boys.

"Lord Rickon, Lord Brandon," One of them said. "There's a man of the Night's Watch here wishing to have an audience with Lord Brandon."

"Samwell Tarly." Bran said.

"Uh, yes, how did you know?"

The guard next to him rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Best not to ask." He told his comrade. "We'll have him brought here at once, my lords."

The two men left the boys at the weirwood, and soon after they were replaced with a large man in black and a woman carrying a child in her arms. The large man approached them both and bowed his head. "Bran, so good to see you again." His gaze turned to Rickon. "And you must be Rickon Stark."

"I am, but who are you?"

"Forgive my manners, I'm Samwell Tarly, and this is Gilly and our son, Little Sam." He gestured to the boy in Gilly's arms. "I can't tell you how good it is to see you safe Bran. I thought for certain I sent you to your death letting you passed the Wall, but when I heard at the Citadel you sent ravens warning everyone about the Army of the Dead, I never doubted it was really you."

"The other maesters didn't listen." Bran stated.

"No, they didn't." There was a brief moment of silence between all of them. "What happened to you beyond the Wall?"

"I became the Three Eyed Raven." Bran said blatantly.

"Oh, I'm afraid I don't know what that means."

"It means I see everything. Everything in the past, everything happening right now. I'm still trying to piece it all together, but there are things I can see right now. I saw you kill the walker with the dragonglass dagger. I saw you on the ship to Old Town. I saw you when you first read the note Grenn gave to you when you left Castle Black. You know about Jon."

"You do as well?"

"I saw him born in the Tower of Joy. Lord Howland Reed was here to confirm to my siblings that Jon's not Ned Stark's bastard, he's Rhaegar and Lyanna's."

"Actually, he's not."

Bran, for the first time Rickon's seen him since his return, looked confused. "Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna and raped her in Dorne."

"No, he didn't. At the Citadel, Gilly and I transcribed the High Septon Maynard's diary. He annulled his marriage to Ellia and wed Rhaegar and Lyanna in a secret ceremony."

Rickon's jaw dropped, he still couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Are you certain?" Bran asked.

"There's a way we can find out." Rickon told him. They both looked at the weirwood and Bran placed his hand on the weirwood and Rickon followed quickly, forgetting about what he said earlier. They both found themselves next a river and some trees in the summer. There were three people standing at the edge of the water. A Septon, a man with silver air, and a woman with raven black hair who looked just like Arya, but older. The Septon tied a band across the man and woman's hands as they spoke their wedding vows to each other. They were witnessing the marriage of Rhaegar and Lyanna.

They were suddenly transported to the inside of a castle and their aunt Lyanna was on a bed, bleeding and dying. Next to her was their father, but he was far younger. She leaned up to Ned's ear and whispered something to him. "His name, is Aegon Targaryen. You have to protect him. Promise me Ned, promise me."

Bran and Rickon returned to themselves and both inhaled, deeply. They looked at each other, surprised and in disbelief. "Roberts rebellion was built on a lie." Bran said. He looked over to Sam and Gilly. "Rhaegar never kidnapped our aunt or raped her, he loved her, and she loved him. And Jon's real name is Aegon. Aegon Targaryen, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne."

"We have to tell someone!" Rickon said, still comprehending what he witnessed. "We need to tell Arya!"

"Yes, we should. Although, I think it would best to keep this from Sansa." Bran said.

"Sansa your sister? If she already knows about Jon being Rhaegar's son, why keep her from this?"

Before he could answer, the two guards returned to them. "My lords, your presence is requested in the Great Hall."

"You're about to find out why." Rickon said to Sam as he walked behind Bran's cart and began to push him through the snow. Sam, Gilly, and Ghost followed closely behind them.

* * *

Almost all of the Northern Lords were gathered inside the Great Hall. Bran and Rickon took their places at the head table while Sam and Gilly stood off to the side. Arya wasn't present, ever since the lords renounced Jon, she never attended the meetings. From the front of the room, Sansa entered, followed by Lord Baelish. She sat down in between her brothers while Littlefinger stood behind her.

"Your Grace," Lord Glover said, "has there being any word of Jon Snow's whereabouts?"

Sansa looked over to Bran, expecting him to know exactly where he was. "He's on his way from the Iron Islands." Bran informed. "He conquered the Ironborn for Daenerys Targaryen and travels with Theon Greyjoy and Jorah Mormont and Lord Reed. They're on their way here as we speak."

"He travels with Theon Turncloak!?" Lord Glover exclaimed. "He brings him to answer for the sacking of Winterfell no doubt. Perhaps there's hope for him yet." Some of the lords banged in agreement. Bran leaned over to Sansa, whispering something to her. Rickon guessed he was correcting Lord Glover's assumption.

As Bran leaned away, Sansa addressed her lords. "Theon is traveling here on by his own will. He plans on giving himself up to face justice."

"What about Jorah?" Lady Mormont asked. "He was exiled after dishonoring his house. What purpose does he have at Winterfell?"

Sansa looked back to Bran, hoping for some clarity. "He is queensguard to Daenerys Targaryen. She'll be joining them at Castle Cerwyn."

"Snow brings the Mad Kings daughter here?" Lord Glover said. "He expects us to make peace with her?"

"My Lords," Sansa said, "Whatever purpose Jon would have to bring her here, I can assure you, he wouldn't bend the knee to her. Whatever her purpose is for coming here, I'm not sure. All I ask of you is to wait until that time comes." Lord Glover seemed content, and the hall began to quiet down. "Moving on, a brother of the Night's Watch arrived today, claiming he had important information for us." Everyone's gaze turned to Sam as he stepped forward and bowed his head.

"Forgive, your grace, and my lords, but the information I had was meant for Jon first. It concerned him and the wars to come."

Rickon looked directly at him, slightly shaking his head. 'Don't tell them.' He thought.

"Jon Snow failed to fulfill his duties as King in the North," Lord Baelish said, "We have turned to someone who truly has put the North in front of her own ambitions." Rickon hated him. His voiced was felt like a snake was choking its victim. "Whatever information you have, you can entrust it with us."

Sam looked uneasy, not trusting anyone in the room, but the stares at him seemed to break his silence. "My name is Samwell Tarly. I was training to be a maester at the Citadel, but since I was the only one who seemed to do anything useful, I decided to leave and come here. Before I left, I stumbled across a piece of information and uncovered a great secret thought to have been lost." He paused, looking unsure whether or not to continue.

'Don't say it!' Rickon screamed in his mind.

"My Lords, my queen," Sam said, "I may have discovered how to make Valyrian steel once again." Rickon sighed in relief as murmurs sounded throughout the halls.

"I beg your pardon." Sansa said.

"Valyrian steel. Aside from dragonglass, it's the only other thing that can kill White Walkers. Jon used his Valyrian sword at Hardhome to kill one."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Jon wouldn't lie about it, not when he was in the position he was in."

"It seems he did better work as Lord Commander than as King in the North." Lord Baelish said. "Maybe it would be best to send him back to the Wall." Sansa didn't respond to that, but a few of the lords banged their tables at that. "So tell us, how does one make Valyrian steel?"

"I'm still not fully sure about the forging," Sam said, "but the key to the steel is the quenching. It's a special technique and can probably only be done by those who know how to rework the steel."

"I know of a man who knows how in King's Landing. I'll send word to have him brought to the North."

"Very good, Lord Baelish," Sansa told him. "Thankyou for coming all this way, Samwell. I'll have a room made ready for your stay here." Sam bowed his head and stepped back to Gilly. "That will be all for today, we shall reconvene when Jon arrives." Everyone got up from their seats and dispersed. Littlefinger stole Sansa away to a corridor while Sam gathered with Bran and Rickon. "Let's find Arya," Rickon suggested. "We can talk with her somewhere private."

* * *

They found Arya in the crypts at the statue of Lyanna Stark. As they got closer, Arya spoke up, not even looking at them. "It's sad when you think about it, never knowing your mother. It pained my heart when our mother died at the Twins, but at least I knew her. Jon never even got to meet his mother, or his real father." She looked over to them. "Who's he?" She looked over to Sam.

"This is Samwell Tarly," Rickon told her. "He's the one who let Bran beyond the Wall."

"Pleasure," she said.

"If I may," Sam started, "why did the lords renounce Jon?"

Arya snorted, as if the answer was obvious. "Because they're proud cunts. They don't want anyone's help who isn't from Westeros against the dead. They put of with the men at the Wall, but it seems they can't handle an army of actual fighters from another continent to help them. They got tired of jon not being in the North, so they put it to a vote and made Sansa their Queen. But I really know why. Littlefinger's been planting seeds of doubt in all of the lords, and Sansa. All he would need to completely turn them over to his side is the knowledge that Jon's a bastard of a Targaryen."

"Actually," Sam said. "There's something you'd might like to hear."


	32. Daenerys VII

Daenerys

After hours of flying, Dragonstone finally came into sight. The castle seemed to brighten in the light of sun and Daenerys could see a group of Dothraki riding on the cliffs. She guided Drogon to land near them as they approached the ground. As Drogon slammed onto the grass, the Dothraki approached her, dismounting and kneeling.

 _"Khaleesi! We're glad to see you returned to us!"_  One of them said.

_"It's good to be back. I'm afraid I suffered an injury in my leg during my capture. I'll need assistance walking."_

_"Of course, Khaleesi."_  The Dothraki turned to his followers before dismounting.  _"Go get Missandei and tell her the Khaleesi had returned!"_  The other riders spurred their horses and galloped to the castle as the Dothraki who stayed slowly approached Drogon as Daenerys carefully climbed down his side. The Dothraki extended his arm as Daenerys grabbed hold of him and leaned on him, limping on the grass.  _"Are you going to be alright, Khaleesi?"_

 _"Not for a while, but soon."_  She said. The Dothraki grabbed the reigns of his horse and pulled it forward. He helped her onto it and they both began to walked back to the castle. At this time, Rhaegal and Viserion landed near their brother and began to curled up in the grass.

_"What happened to the one who took you? Did you get revenge?"_

_"I didn't, but someone else did, with fire and blood."_  She smiled thinking of how Jon must've felt to ride on a dragon. He told her about how he had to warg into Rhaegal and guide his actions on what to do. Soon, he wouldn't need to.

As they approached the gates, Tyrion, Varys, Missandei, and even Ser Davos all were waiting to greet her. They all seemed to look pleased at her return. "This will be far enough." She said as she dismounted carefully. Another Dothraki had fetched a walking stick for her as she slowly approached her counsel. Missandei couldn't seem to help herself as she quickly embraced her.

"I'm glad you made it back," Missandei said, her voice cracking. She noticed Daenerys's hair was cut greatly and let strands of it slip through your fingers. "Your hair."

"It's only hair, it will grow back." Missandei smiled again, tears starting to well up in her eyes. "I'm happy to see all of you."

"I speak for all of us when I say we're relieved that you made it back," Tyrion said. Daenerys let go of Missandei and looked at her Hand, smiling. "What of the fate of Jon and the others?"

"They're alive and well. We'll discuss what happened inside." Tyrion bowed and stepped out of her way as they all walked together into the castle.

Inside the Chamber of the Painted Table, Daenerys sat south at the south part of the table as the others stood around it. "Where should I begin?"

"If I may," Ser Davos interjected, "might I inquire the fate of Jon?"

"He suffered some serious burns on his back protecting me from Wildfire, but he's recovering quickly. The flames only burned his skin."

"A bit pointless," Tyrion commented, "given your ability to walk through flames."

"Except Wildfire seems to burn me." Tyrion looked at her, worried. "Something about those flames aren't natural. The fires of pitch do not affect me, but those green flames. They're something else."

"Can we be expecting Jon to return soon?" Ser Davos asked.

"He's on his way back to Winterfell as we speak. Unfortunately, he received a raven informing him the Northern lords have renounced him as King in the North."

"They what?" Tyrion inquired, shocked.

"Your grace," Varys said, "If I may, I have been hearing songs from my little birds that Sansa Stark now has the North and the Northern Lords backing her. They also sing of a Lord who spends an awful amount of time, staying close to her ears, whispering supposed guidance for her rule."

"Littlefinger," Tyrion said.

"His words have manipulated many to their doom, no doubt he's trying to do the same to her and her family."

Daenerys didn't answer immediately. Her thoughts seemed to worry about Jon. 'Would he really be alright returning?' "I have faith in Jon. If he could rescue me from Euron Greyjoy, he can withstand whatever he has coming his way." She straightned herself and her gaze seemed to fall upon all of them. "That being said, there's something important I learned about the bastard of Winterfell." Ser Davos seemed to be paying the most attention when she said that. "I finally learned of which Targaryen's blood flows through Jon's veins."

"That's wonderful." Tyrion said. "Was his mother a Blackfyre? Maybe a Bittersteel?"

"He's the son of my brother Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark."

Everyone seemed to freeze except for Missandei who looked confused. "Your grace," she said, "forgive me, but I thought his father was Ned Stark."

"As did I," Tyrion added.

Daenerys told them all of what Jon had told her and the others in the cells of Pyke. She then told them about what Euron did to them, but before she could go into the details of the battle as Jon told her, a Dothraki servant girl walked into the room and handed a raven scroll to Varys. "A report from my little birds, your grace." He broke the wax seal and unrolled the paper, reading the contents. He looked grim as he set the scroll down.

"What is it?" Tyrion asked.

"Your grace, when you secured the Iron fleet, were there any ships unaccounted for?"

"Yes," she confirmed, "two hundred."

"They're currently in Essos. It seems Cersei hired the Golden Company with the Tyrell gold and even as we speak, they're preparing to sail to Westeros."

"Do you know how many?" She asked.

"Twenty thousand men and five hundred elephants."

"Do we know when they'll sail for King's Landing?"

Varys seemed to not want to answer for some reason. But when he did, Daenerys understood his grimace. "They're not sailing for King's Landing, they're sailing for Dragonstone."

"Damn," Tyrion said. "And I was just starting to like it here," he jested. "How long until they reach us?"

"They won't be leaving for another two days, but they'll most likely be here within the fortnight."

Daenerys felt all the eyes of her counsel turn to her, awaiting her guidance. "Then it seems our time her is at an end. Spread the word to everyone on the island that we'll be leaving Dragonstone and sailing for White Harbor."

"The North, your grace?" Tyrion asked.

"I promised Jon I would join him at Castle Cerwyn, and I don't like to break my promises."

"But with the current situation with Jon Snow in the North, I'm not sure it will be as welcoming as you first expected."

"I understand that, but I also understand that it doesn't change my objective of winning over the Northern Lords." She assured him. "Which remionds me, thre's a matter which I'd like to discuss with you." She seemed to only mean Tyrion as all eyes fell on him.

"Of course, you have my ears."

"Could we have the room as well?" She asked the others around her. Varys, Missandei, and Ser Davos all left the room, leaving Tyrion with her. "Do you think Jon Snow can win back the other lords?"

"It's hard to say, they don't have much love for you because of your father, but Jon made it clear when he first met you that he doesn't hold a father's sins against his children. I heard that he vouched for the Umbers and the Karstarks after the Battle of the Bastards when the children of the previous lords took command. They may repay that kindness and have faith in you."

"It's a start, but should he become the King in the North once again, he won't bend the knee."

"I figured as much. He does act in the interest of his lords, but also in the interest of their survival. Unfortunately, that wasn't good enough for them. They won't accept a Southern ruler, only a Northern one."

"And what if a Northern ruler was in the south with me?" Her brow arched, hoping what she was implying reached Tyrion.

He seemed to understand as his mouth fell open slightly, losing his words for a moment. "Are you suggesting a unity?"

"I am. I won't ask him to bend the knee, I'll ask him to side beside me."

"But he's your nephew by blood."

Daenerys stood up, grabbing her walking stick and paced towards Tyrion. "Before I was engaged to Drogo, I always believed I would become Viserys's bride. Luckily that didn't happen and I didn't want it to. But when I see Jon and think about it, it feels different."

"Will he feel the same way? Before he left here he was in love with you, but are you sure he still is knowing what you are to him?"

Daenerys told Tyrion of the game Euron played with her and when he asked her if Jon loved her. Tyrion seemed entranced as she told him about Jon being burned by Wildfire for her. "Fucking hells, he never ceases to amaze me."

Daenerys suddenly recalled what Tyrion said before she told him about Pyke about Jon loving her before he left. "How did you know he was in love with me?"

"I figured he wasn't staring at you longingly at times because he was hopeful for a successful military alliance." Tyrion told her.

Daenerys giggled a little before wearing a light smile. "If we make it through this the way we hope to, he'll be ruling the Seven Kingdoms."

"Both of you will," Tyrion corrected.

She looked at him, saddened but still smiling. "I can't have children Tyrion. He'll be the future of our family, I can't take that away from him."

"Daenerys," Tyrion said, this being a rare time he didn't say 'your grace,' "I honestly don't know what to tell you about something like that. But what I can tell you, is that Jon is someone who doesn't give up easily, and I can guarantee that he won't ever plan or agree to give up on you if it comes down to that."

Daenerys's gaze turned to the North, tracing the lands to Winterfell. "We'll see."

* * *

After nearly a week, the final preparations for departure were being made as ships from White Harbor anchored off shore. Varys had secured help from Lord Manderley by calling in a favor he seemed to owe. There were twenty ships including the three they already had at Dragonstone, and the last of the Dothraki were boarding their boats to the ships. The only ones who remained were Qhono and his guard, and Abroko who was reporting the last efforts of the mining to him.  _"We mined as much as we could, but there are still vast amounts in the island."_

 _"How much did you mine?"_  Qhono asked.

_"There should be enough for about fifty thousand spears, daggers, and bunches of arrows, and twenty thousand axes, halberds, and various other weapons."_

_"This better have been worth the time spent on all of this."_

_"To be honest, if what the Northern Khal said is true about dead men, I hope it was. I'd rather not face an enemy like that no matter what the reward was."_

Qhono nodded, agreeing with him. No enemy has ever scared the Dothraki, but something about what they heard is coming from the North seemed to disturb them.

Their conversation was cut short when Daenerys and her companions walked across the beach. She still need the help of a walking stick, but not as much anymore. Her hair had been trimmed and because of its length, she was unable to do her four braids. In their place, Daenerys had a single braid that rested over the rest of her hair. On it were four rings, each a different material. The top ring was of gold, representing the crown of gold Viserys was given at his demise, the ring below it was made of dragonglass, representing the birth of her dragons, below that one was a broken ring of steel to resent the chains of the slaves she freed, and on the bottom, tying off the braid, was a ring of bronze to represent her victory to gain the loyalty of the Dothraki hordes. She was finally back to wearing something befitting a queen

She approached one of the final boats that was about to take to the sea, saying her final words to her companions. "I'll make sure the lords of the North will remember to treat their guests with respect and hospitality when you reach Winterfell."

"How will you manage that?" Tyrion asked.

"I'll remind them that they are better than the Freys." Tyrion snorted as Drogon began to approach the beach. Daenerys gave Missandei a warm hug as to assure her they would be alright. She finally turned to Varys, leaning forward to whisper something to him. "If you can, see if your little birds can hear any whispers that would give us leverage against the northern lords."

He didn't say anything to her as she pulled away, he only bowed his head silently. Danerys looked out to the ships as if double checking there were enough. Oddly, there was one more ship than she was told. The sails of it were grey and had no sigil on it. "Whose ship is that?"

"That would be mine." Ser Davos said, stepping forward to her. "I won't be heading North just yet. There's something in King's Landing I need to retrieve before all hell breaks loose."

"I know this is last minute," Tyrion spoke, "but would it be possible for me to join you?"

Daenerys looked down to him, concerned. "What business do you have in King's Landing."

"I may have figured out a way to deal with the problem in the North, without having to worry about the enemies to the south. I have a contact in King's Landing who may be able to grant me a safe audience with someone I trust. I'm afraid I'm short on time, but all I can ask of you is to please trust me."

"How will you get past the guards? The gold cloaks will recognize you."

"That's why I was hoping to go with Ser Davos," he answered, looking at the Onion Knight.

Ser Davos sighed exhaustingly before answering, "I can smuggle you in, but if the gold cloaks do recognize you, I'm afraid I'm not much of a fighter."

"We'll be gone before they even think to look my way." Tyrion looked back at Daenerys, hoping she would approve.

"I can't lose my Hand before the real battles begin." He seemed discouraged, looking down to the sand. "So you better be careful Tyrion." He looked back up to her, nodding before he and Davos approached one of the last boats and hauled in into the water.

Drogon at this point had landed onto the beach and awaited his mother to climb onto his back. Daenerys gave one last look to her companions before approaching her dragon. She tossed away the walking stick as she reached his side and began to climb onto his back. The moment she finally gripped onto his spikes, Drogon spread his wings and sent powerful gusts of wind across the sand as he took to the skies. The two of them were soon joined by Rhaegal and Viserion, flying over Dragonstone one last time. Daenerys hoped to return one day, not to plan a war or evade her enemies, but to enjoy what the island offered.


	33. Rickon III

Rickon

Ever since his shoulder had healed, Rickon seemed to wish it hadn't with all the drilling his siblings made him do. Archery wasn't a problem at all for him, but when his skill with a bow was finally noticed, he went from drilling to teaching with the master at arms. He often was tasked with showing all the children between the age of ten and fifteen. Most of the older students doubted him right until they could see him plant an arrow in every bullseye of every target before they could get a single arrow into one target.

The whole time, Rickon carried the sword Jon gifted to him, and the whole time he still wasn't able to use it properly. It upset him greatly that Jon didn't give him a smaller sword he could use like he did Arya, but it didn't stop him from practicing with a wooden sword. Arya was always training with the big blonde lady knight and her squire until they both left on request of Sansa to settle a problem at the Dreadfort regarding Wildlings. Since then, Rickon has been having brutal lessons from his sister, learning what she called water dancing. It made him feel ridiculous, but he witnessed her skill before and couldn't help but be envious of that kind of ability.

Today however, she was in the middle of her own business. Ever since Sansa had become Queen in the North, she spent a great deal of time brooding in the crypts at their father and brother's tomb, but her skill in brooding was nowhere near Jon's skill. She seemed as if she was trying to cut herself off from everyone else as if she was trying to insult them.

Rickon decided to find some peace and quiet as well and decided to do what his father did at times and sat at the edge of the hot spring next to the weirwood tree. Rickon was lying down in the snow, leaning his head up against Ghost's body. He had already practiced enough things for one day and found there was no one he could spend his time with. Arya was in the crypts, Sansa was with Bran, and all the other children his age returned to Winter town. Ghost seemed to be his only company at all times, except he might as well not be there at all since he was never playful like the other direwolves were.

While Rickon was napping, Ghost all of a sudden lifted his head up, as if hearing a disturbance. He stood up on all fours, letting Rickon's head plop to the ground. Before Rickon could sit up straight, Ghost had already run out of the Godswood, leaving him alone. "Is it something I said?" his words directed to the emptiness around him. The only thing that kept him company now was the face of the weirwood. The face always looked sad because of the red sap that bled constantly.

Rickon had always been about what else he could be able to see with his newfound ability. Bran was the one who actually took them to the only visions he saw, but maybe he could do it on his own. Rickon sat up and walked over to the face of the tree and placed his hand upon its lips. He instantly felt himself go from one place to another, but where he was in a place unfamiliar to him. He was somewhere in the North because of how much snow was around him and the snow falling. He was surrounded by hills and mountains, not recognizing anything.

From over a hill behind him, Rickon could hear the sound of marching. He pulled the sides of his cloak over his body and trudged through the snow. When he reached the top, he was mystified at what he saw. Before him in a valley was an army of tens of thousands, stretching as far as he could see. Every soldier has eyes of blue and their bodies were frozen in a state of decay. He saw animals with the same features amongst the men and giants in the middle of the army.

He couldn't find it within himself to move until the whole army ceased marching. They all just stood there, as if waiting for something. From behind, Rickon felt the presence of someone approaching him. He turned around and riding next to him on dead horses were eight creatures. They looked like old men, but their skin was like ice and their eye's bluer than the soldiers. One of them looked different. While the others had white hair of any kind on their heads, this one had no hair, and instead had spikes of ice protruding from his head forming what could be called a crown. They all halted and gazed upon the army, looking unimpressed, like they were expecting it to be this massive. The one with the crown turned his gaze Rickon, as if he could see him. Rickon started to slowly back away, too frightened to linger, but the crowned ice man dismounted his horse and stepped closer to him.

Rickon tripped backwards into the snow and panicked. His hands kept getting caught on the inside of his cloak, preventing him from crawling backwards in the snow. He rolled himself over, down the hill towards the Army of the Dead. When he reached the bottom, he stood up as fast as he could and drew his sword. He was blocked by the army and the ice man was still approaching him. All the while, he could hear Arya shouting at him as if from all around. "RICKON! RICKON WAKE UP!"

"Arya! Where are you!?" The ice man was nearly within arm's reach and Rickon held up his sword at him. "Stay back!" The ice man grabbed the blade and a strange metal noise sounded before the blade shattered and only the hilt remained. As Rickon dropped what remained of his sword, the ice man stretched his arm out to him. Just before he touched Rickon, a hand appeared followed by the arm it belonged to and wrapped itself over Rickon's body from behind and pulled him backwards.

Rickon felt himself return to his body and suddenly fell down, shaking in the snow. Arya was kneeling down next to him calling for help. He kept taking deep breaths as Arya sat him up. As he finally calmed down, Rickon was helped to his feet by Maester Wolkan and a Stark soldier. He never noticed when they got there. "Are alright, my lord?" Wolkan asked.

Rickon didn't answer, he only stared into the distance, trying to forget what he saw.

"What in seven hells were you doing?" Arya asked, looking like she was about ready to kill him.

"I saw them," Rickon breathed out, "I saw the Army of the Dead, I saw the White Walkers, I saw the Night King. He looked right at me. He tried to grab me. He shattered my sword." Rickon looked at the hilt of his sword resting in its scabbard. He wrapped his fingers around the wooden handle and pulled it out, only to have a small bit of the blade still attached to the hilt. Everyone's eyes widened as he tilted his scabbard over and poured out small bits of steel from the inside. Rickon let the hilt slip out of his hands and into the snow as he felt a great shiver run down his spine.

"How about we go inside where it's warm?" Arya suggested. All Rickon could do was nod rapidly. She wrapped her arm around his and escorted him out of the Godswood while the soldier and Maester Wolkan collected the fragments of the sword to have it reforged.

They went inside the castle to Bran's room where he and Sansa were talking. Arya knocked on the door and waited for Sansa to answer. The moment the door opened, Arya pushed through with Rickon and sat him down in a chair that was currently unoccupied. "What are doing?" Sansa asked.

"Something happened to Rickon in the Godswood." Arya told them.

"You saw it," Bran said, "you saw them." He didn't even need to say who, Rickon shivered next to the fire in the hearth and nodded.

"I saw the Night King, he tried to grab me, he broke my sword." Rickon said, his voice heavy with fear.

"I know" Bran told him, "If I didn't pull you back he would've left his mark on you."

"That was you?" Rickon looked up to his brother, immediately rushing at him with a large embrace. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go there I just did." Rickon let go of his brother, grateful he saved him.

"I'll teach you how to control it soon, but it's still too dangerous while he walks."

Rickon nodded again and sat back down in his seat. There was a sullen silence between all of them, before Sansa decided to break it with an observation.

"Where's Ghost? He's always with you."

"I don't know, he left me in the Godswood before I had my vision."

"He's gone to greet Jon," Bran said.

"What?" Arya asked, surprised. "Jon's here?"

"Almost. He's only a few miles away from here. He's with Theon Greyjoy and Daenerys Targaryen."

"What about her dragons?"

"Wait for it." Bran told her. There was a brief silence again before the sound of screeching could be heard. "They're here with Ygris and Lyarras."

"Rickon," Arya said, "why don't we go outside to see? Maybe something to take your mind off of what you saw will help you calm down."

"Aye, that sounds like a good idea," He told her. Arya offered her arm to him, but he shook his head as he stood up and walked out of the room with her, leaving Sansa with Bran. When they got outside, there was a crowd forming along the battlements of Winterfell and they soon joined them. Out in the fields of snow were three extremely large dragons and circling overhead were Ygris and Lyarras. "They're huge!" Rickon exclaimed. He never imagined that dragons could ever get that big. Beyond the dragons on the horizon were many small moving specs along the road leading to Winterfell. "That must be Jon!" Rickon stated. Arya grew a large smile as she looked out in the distance. The dragons weren't screeched again as Ygris and Lyarras landed next to the large green dragon.

* * *

By the time they had reached the gates, Sansa and Bran had come outside to greet them with everyone else. Rickon stood next to Arya and watched as Jon rode through the gates, next to him was who he assumed was the Dragon Queen. Behind them was Lord Reed, Lord Flint, A man he didn't know, and Theon Greyjoy. When Theon entered, he earned many hateful stares. Rickon watched as Jon dismounted his horse and walked over to Daenerys's, offering his hand to her. She took hold of it, people murmuring as she did, and dismounted her horse carefully. She didn't let go of his hand, and Rickon noticed she had a small limp in her leg. Jon immediately approached them and was let go of by Daenerys. Arya darted forward and squeezed Jon as tight as she could, causing Jon to let out a groan. "Careful," he said, "I've got some really nasty burns." He returned the favor and squeezed her back, earning a laugh instead. "You've no idea how happy I am to see you." Jon told her.

"I was gonna the say same." Ayra told him. Jon seemed to notice the pommel of her sword poking up against him.

"You still have needle?" He asked, amazed.

"Course I do, it was a gift from you wasn't it?" Rickon overheard that and felt terrible. She was able to keep her sword intact for years and he got his destroyed months after receiving it.

Jon looked over to Bran as he released Arya and approached him. "You fought well on Pyke." He told him.

"You watched?" Jon asked, as if he knew what Bran was.

"I saw you take a step closer to who you're going to be. You really are your father's son." Jon seemed amused at Bran as he leaned down to give him a hug.

As Jon stood up, he looked over to Rickon and Sansa, trying to stay smiling. "Where's Ghost?"

Rickon became confused, "you didn't see him on the way here?"

"No, should I have?"

"Bran said he left to greet you."

"I thought he was," Bran said, "but now it seems he's still going south. As for why, I don't know."

"He'll be back," Jon assured them. He took a few steps back and introduced his new companions. "May I present Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Rightful heir to the Iron Throne…" He seemed puzzled as if he just forgot something. "I'm afraid I can't remember all of her titles, but there are many." Daenerys snorted at him before giving a curtsey to the Stark children.

"It's an honor to meet all of you." She told them. Rickon seemed the only one to show any form of courtesy by bowing his head. Bran remained silent while Arya just smiled at her.

Sansa stepped forward to her, trying to measure up to her. "My name is Sansa Stark, I welcome you to Winterfell, your grace."

"If I've heard correctly, you've taken the role of Queen in the North." Daenerys said, not breaking her regality.

"I have, the other lords of the North felt it was time for a change."

"Was Jon not good enough for them?"

"Something like that." Everyone could feel the tension in the air as they faced off, but luckily someone broke it before things got turned bad.

"Jon!" a man shouted from the crowd. People moved aside as Samwell Tarly stepped forward, looking as happy as he could.

"Sam!" Jon exclaimed as he rushed to his friend and carefully hugged him. "What are you doing here?"

"You could say that the Citadel is the worst place for people who actually want to learn something. So, I came here to help." Sam then leaned next to Jon's ear and whispered something to him.

Jon simply nodded as the man who came with them spoke up. "Samwell Tarly," he said. "It's good to see you again."

"Ser Jorah," Sam realized. "You're looking better than you did at the Citadel."

"Do you know each other?" Jon asked.

"We do," Jorah confirmed "He saved my life."

"Forgive me," Daenerys intruded, "you said your name was Samwell Tarly?" She seemed to be very concerned.

"Yes, I'm the son Randal Tarly, the lord of Hornhill, do you know him?"

She didn't answer at first, she only looked mortified. "You don't what happened to him?"

"Is there something wrong?"

"Excuse me," Arya intruded, "But it's cold, and I'm sure we all are. Can we take this inside?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Jon told them.

"Yes, it is," Sansa said, "in fact why don't we all return inside?" Sansa turned to a guard that accompanied her. "Inform the other lords to gather in the Great Hall."

"Sansa," Jon said, "We've only just arrived."

"This can't wait longer than it already has."

As Sansa started to walk away, Rickon walked up to Jon, feeling bad about what he was about to tell him about his sword. "Jon, I'm sorry but I did something that shattered the blade of my sword. Jon looked down at him, his eyes noticing the empty scabbard.

"What did you do?" he asked, baffled at him.

Rickon was going to tell him about what he just did, but realized there were many other things Jon would have to know before he told him. "Now that I think about, It's better to tell you when we have more time together."

"I agree," Bran said, "first we should go to the Great Hall and take care of business."

"Dammit Bran!" Arya shouted. "Why the hell are you on Sansa's side?"

"Bran just looked at her the same way he looked at everybody, but Rickon could sense some doubt. "Have faith in her, she's our sister after all."


	34. Davos II & Tyrion II

Ser Davos

Of all the journeys Davos has been in, this one was the most awkward of them all. He had planned on it just being a quick in and out of Kings Landing. But instead, he was traveling with one of the men responsible for his Son's death. Then again, he was just as responsible for bringing Mathos into battle with him. Still, it didn't seem to stop the Imp from constantly pestering him about anything he could think of.

As they rowed to the shores of a concealed beach just outside of the city, Tyrion couldn't seem to take things as they were much longer. "I must admit, when I was captured by Ser Jorah and gagged, I had a much more pleasant time. He at least ignored me completely rather than partially."

"It's not that I'm tyrin to ignore you, it's that I don't feel like talking."

"And what else am I supposed to do? We still have quite some ways to go and quite some time before we get there."

Davos sighed, giving up. "What's there to talk about?"

"I'm a bit curious as to why you chose to follow Jon Snow."

"It's a long story."

"Then how about we start at the death of the man you previously served."

Davos remembered when Brienne of Tarth told him and Melissandre that she executed him after the attempted battle at Winterfell. "I thought about going home after that. I wanted to. I would've."

"Had it not been for what?"

Ser Davos wasn't sure whether or not to say. Jon didn't really want people know he died. But if he told them, they'd understand the lengths he goes to. "Someone was betrayed and killed at Castle Black."

"I heard that Jon hung the First officers for treason, but I didn't know it was for murder."

"They all had a shared hate for the Wildings and the one who let them through the Wall."

"I'm surprised they didn't kill Jon instead. He was the one who gave the order didn't he?"

"He was, and they did."

Tyrion looked like someone just through a rock at his head and he was looking for who threw it. "I beg your pardon?"

"They stabbed their Lord Commander in the night and left him to freeze in the snow." He couldn't take it anymore. "He took a knife in the heart for his people."

"I find that hard to believe, seeing as he's still alive." Tyrion seemed to be frustrated, as if Davos had told a bad joke.

"He was brought back to us by a Red Priestess of Asshai."

"Her name wouldn't happen to be Melissandre would it?"

This caught Davos off guard, "you know her?"

"She met with the Queen and convinced her to meet with the King in the North. Though I must say, I like her more than the first priestess I met in Essos. She seemed… careful about what she said."

"She's made mistakes, some of them unforgivable."

"Yet she brought back a man from the dead it seems. I feel like that would make up for some mistakes."

"Some, not all." Davos meant what he asked of Jon before he banished Melisandre, and he meant to be the one to execute her if she ever returned to the North.

"So, you follow Jon Snow because he died for what he believed in?"

"I'm done following men for what they believe in. I follow Jon because he did the right thing and gave his life for it. He didn't care about the pride of the men around him, and he vowed to guard the realms of men and at the time, there were men in the realm north of the Wall."

"I don't even think his father-, uncle would've even seen things that way."

"Jon spent time with the Wildlings, got to see things from their point of view."

"You told everyone he also saw the dead when you introduced him. Do you believe him?"

"With all the weird shit that's been going on in the world, I'm honestly not surprised at things like that anymore. And if someone brings a legion of Wildlings for the first time ever, there'd better be a fuckin good reason."

"We can agree on that." The boat had reached the sands finally, and the two men disembarked. Davos pulled the boat further up shore and planted the sand spike deep into the sand. "The last time I was here, I killed my father with a crossbow."

"Last time I was here, you killed my son with Wildfire." Davos walked past him, gesturing Tyrion to follow. "There's a path to the left that the guards hardly ever patrol. Too many steps."

"Are you sure about leaving the boat alone? What if someone sees it and takes it?"

"Then were fucked. We'd best hurry."

"We could've fit a third person in the boat. They could've watched over it until we returned."

"Yes, they could've, but then we'd have to fit four people." Davos hurried up some stone steps at the beach leading to the city as Tyrion followed behind him hastily.

* * *

Tyrion

The darkness of the cells beneath the Red Keep were terrifying enough without the skulls of dragons scattered about everywhere. He felt like one of them might open its mouth and devour him. One of them with a spear imbedded in its skull caught his attention. Judging by the size, the skull had to have been Balerion's. The spear must have been put in the skull by the scorpion contraption that was used against Drogon at the Blackwater Rush.

Before he could observe anymore, he heard the sound of familiar voices approaching. He stepped away from the skulls and through the shadows the torches around him couldn't light. He saw Bronn and Jaime getting closer, but Jaime hadn't noticed him yet. "Today might be the day I kill you by accident." Jaime said. Bronn must've told him something clever or insulting. Knowing him it was probably both.

"Oh, you won't be swinging it at me." Bronn's torch unveiled the darkness that covered Tyrion, revealing him to Jaime. The anger on his brothers face looked immense. "I'll leave you to it." Bronn said as he left them to it.

Jaime's gaze fell onto his brother, looking ready to kill him. "I needed to see you," Tyrion said, "and I knew you'd never agree to meet." Jaime just kept staring at him, looking all the more angry. Tyrion couldn't help but feel nervous. At this point all he could do is small talk to try and warm up to him. "You made me look like a complete fool. I'd thought I'd surprise you by hitting Casterly Rock, but you were three steps ahead of me. Abandoning the family home, completely unsentimental. Father would've been proud."

"Don't talk about father," Jaime spat.

"Listen to me-"

"I once told Bronn that if I ever saw you again I'd cut you in half." Jaime sounded like he meant.

"It would take you a while with a sparring sword." Tyrion poked. Jaime just shook his head, denying any humor at all. "He was going to execute me, he knew I was innocent. He didn't hate me because of anything I did, he hated me because of what I am. A little monster sent to punish him." Jaime appeared to have a small bit of understanding, but it still didn't excuse him for what he did. "Do you think I wanted to be born this way? Do think I-"

"What do you want!?" Jaime exclaimed, getting to the point.

Tyrion could see there would be no pleasantries between them, so he couldn't help but oblige. "Daenerys will win this war. You're a military man, you must know that. She already has two armies and three dragons, and if things in the North go as planned, the number will increase to perhaps five armies and five dragons."

"You expect a Northerner to bend the knee to Southern ruler?"

"No, I expect him to sit beside her on the Iron Throne." Jaime only nodded as if saying 'of course.' "Daenerys is not her father, she's even willing to suspend hostilities if Cersei agrees to certain terms." Tyrion never went over his plan with his queen, but time was growing short and he had to act fast.

Jaime's brow arched, disbelieving what Tyrion said. "You want Cersei to bend the knee, you can ask her yourself."

"No, no I don't, Daenerys doesn't. Not right now anyway. She has a more important request."

Jaime looked at him as if he was expecting it to be obvious. "And that is?"

"She would like to arrange a meeting to discuss an armistice while we deal with a far greater threat in the North."

Jaime just scoffed at him. "The Wildlings were let through by Jon Snow, they're his problem."

"I'm not talking about the Wildlings, I'm talking about an Army of the Dead."

"The dead? And I suppose you'll be fighting the White Walkers as well." Jaime said, sarcastically.

"Yes." Tyrion was as serious as he could be.

"You expect me to believe that? You expect Cersei, or anyone to believe that."

"No, there's nothing I could say that would prove it to you. But there is something I can show you. All I ask of you is to please, trust me."

"I did trust you. I trusted you when I let you out if your cell, but then I learned that you killed our father. Whatever trust you thought I had after that is gone."

"You think I don't know that?" Tyrion said, angry with his brother. "You think I don't know how ridiculous this sounds right now? The only reason I am here is because I want us all to live through this. I want you to live through this."

Jaime looked disgusted at him. "I hate you, little brother, so if you don't leave now, I really will kill you, even if it has to be with a sparring sword."

"Jaime, please-"

"I'll talk to Cersei." Jaime interrupted, surprising Tyrion, "but consider this the last thing I ever do for you, now leave."

Tyrion felt right in the middle of glad and sad. "I'll send a raven when we're ready." Jaime just turned around and walked away from him. Before he disappeared, Bronn walked up to Tyrion and watched with him.

"Even I can tell he has no love for you anymore." Bronn told him.

"Hopefully when he sees the bigger problem, he'll start to feel it again." Tyrion looked up to his friend, recognizing the same person he saw when he left. "My offer still stands. Whatever their paying you, I'll double."

"I'm promised a lordship, a castle, and a highborn beauty. I don't see how you can double that. Running two castles would be too much trouble, and two wives would be nice, but then they'd fight over who gets what when I'm old and dead, ripping what house I make apart."

"True, you will be a lord, and you'll have to pledge your banners to a liege lord." Tyrion let that sink in for a moment. "Unless of course, you were a liege lord." Bronn turned to look at him, laughing.

"You'd turned a sellsword into one of the most powerful men in all of Westeros?"

Tyrion arched his brow at him, "after all we've been through together, you think I wouldn't? And I would be just and give you a true beauty for a wife, not a fair maiden like Lollys Stokeworth, or is it Lollys Bracken now?" Bronn's eyes widened a bit as he looked out into the distance, thinking about the offer.

"I have a beauty in mind. But I'll need help to get her."

"Who?" Tyrion asked, curious as to what woman would Bronn need help with.

"The most beautiful woman in the world."

* * *

Ser Davos

The Street of Steel was loud with business. War was approaching Kings Landing soon, and many were in need of armor and weapons. The constant clanging of hammers against anvils was like a choir, but very out of rhythm. Ser Davos found one forge in particular that caught his attention at last with only one occupant polishing a fresh forged blade. "Wasn't sure I'd find ya." The smith stopped his work and looked up at him. He cut his hair shorter than last Davos saw him, and his face was even more filthy. "Thought ya might still be rowing." Gendry simply chuckled at him. "I looked in shops, taverns, brothels, even thought you'd go back to your teacher, should've know to come straight to the Street of Steel."

"I did go back to Tobho's for a while, then I came here once he taught me everything he could. He's dead now. Queen had him killed for something about a job in the North."

"Just shows how much she loves her subjects."

"Aren't you worried, about the gold cloaks?"

"I haven't been here in years, why should they recognize me? Sometimes I hardly do" Davos walked over to a rack of swords, inspecting the fine quality. They could easily pass as castle forge steel, maybe even better. "Nothing fucks you harder than time." Davos turned back to Gendry, getting another look at him. He'd grown a little in height, but he had the makings of a man. "Anybody give you any trouble?"

"Well here I am, arming Lannisters and I never get a second look. But you were right, safest place for me was right under the Queen's nose."

"Don't be so sure. Safety is never a permanent state of affairs. Bad things are coming."

"And you came to get me? You want me to come with you." Gendry sounded as if he was upset, like he didn't want to leave his forge.

"The thing you need to understand is-"

"I'm ready, let's go." Gendry turned away from Davos and approached a table.

"You should know what you're heading into." The North was going to be attacked by dead men soon after all.

"Do you think I haven't been thinking about it every swing of my hammer? Do you know how happy I am, making weapons for the family that killed my father? The family that tried to kill me?" Gendry tossed his apron he was wearing onto the table and slipped a satchel over his shoulder. "I've been getting ready. I never knew what for, but I always knew I'd know it when it comes."

Davos could tell he was firm on leaving. "You might want to bring one of those swords."

Gendry only smiled at him as he walked over to a wooden beam. "I don't know much about swinging swords," he pulled out a massive Warhammer that was hanging on the beam, "but this, this I know." Gendry walked out of his forge, Davos following close behind him.

"I heard Tobho knew how to rework Valyrian steel, he teach you that as well?"

"He told me how it's done. Couldn't really show me since he hardly ever got the chance. The only times he really did it were for chains of the maesters at the Citadel. It's not that difficult as long as you have the patience and the skill."

"And do you?"

Gendry laughed again as the left the Street of Steel. "If I didn't I wouldn't have left Tobho until I did."

"You say he got a request from the North. Any ideas as to why?"

"To forge something, obviously. I joined him at a tavern every now and then and when he got the message, he told me he was going to make history. Then the gold cloaks appeared and executed him for conspiring with the Queen's enemies."

"Well if you know all he has to offer, looks like you'll be the one to make history."

"Do you know why he would've gone North?"

"Probably to help forge weapons out of a rock called dragonglass."

"Rock weapons? What kind of person would want those?"

"Like I said before, you might want to know what you're getting into."

* * *

Tyrion

Things were going better than Tyrion had originally planned. All he had to do now was convince someone stupid enough to go north of the Wall to bring back a dead soldier. As turned the corner and the beach came into sight, he stopped when he saw two gold cloaks, a short one and a ginger, walking away from Davos, the boat, and a young man. He continued walking, keep his face looking down but also trying not to look suspicious. As he passed them, they seemed to notice his scar but he kept on walking. "Oy, dwarf!"

 _'Fuck!'_  Tyrion thought as he tried to signal Davos for help.

Davos darted from the side of the boat and approached the guards. "I really wouldn't try any more until the first bite hits ya." His attempt to get them away failed as they seemed to ignore him.

"That dwarf," the short one said.

"Where'd you get that scar?" the ginger asked.

Tyrion stopped and turned around to face them. "You caught me," he said. "I am Tyrion Lannister, the Imp who poisoned the king and killed his father!" The gold cloaks looked at each other in surprise and Davos looked like he couldn't breathe. Tyrion suddenly burst into laughter, causing the guards to confused. "At least, that's what the cunts who found me passed out in a tavern thought when they kidnapped me and gave me this!" He pointed to his scar and went from laughing to slightly angry. "Probably would've worked as well, if not for one mistake. Care to take a guess?" The guards looked at each other again, still confused. "The scar they gave me is in the wrong direction!"

They kept their hands on their swords, still acting cautious. "If that's true," the ginger said, "then you won't mind going to the Keep so the queen can say so herself."

"Actually," Davos interrupted, "we are on a bit of a tight schedule. Can we come to a better arrangement?" He shook his money bag at them, getting their attention. Next to the boat, Tyrion watched as the young man grabbed a hammer hidden underneath a clothe in the boat as the gold cloaks turned to face Davos.

"A better arrangement?" The short one asked. "You're gonna arrange to pay us more than Queen Cersei-" He was cut off by the young man swinging his hammer into his head. Tyrion flinched as more blood than he thought appeared as the short guard fell to the sand. Before the ginger could even draw his sword, the young man landed his hammer in the dead center of his face, crushing it.

As the ginger fell to the sand, his faced now covered in blood, the young man put his hammer back in the boat. "It was a boring conversation anyway."

Davos walked back to the boat, pointing at the young man. "This is Gendry."

"He'll do," Tyrion said as they heaved the boat back into the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the awaited trial!


	35. Jon XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got to say, I'm nervous about the responses will be for this chapter.

Jon

 

The Great Hall began to fill up with Lord, Ladies, Maesters, and various guards. Constant chatter was present while Jon stood in the dead center of the room. He didn’t even have time to change out of his cloak or his armor. Even then, he would still keep Longclaw at his side. He couldn’t help but feel that there would be a need for it. All the eyes in the room constantly glanced at him over and over, they gaze they had added a mental weight onto Jon, causing him to feel heavy. The only thing that would help him calm down was the reassuring gaze he received from Daenerys and Arya. He still wished he wasn’t alone in the middle of the room. If there was any time for Ghost to with him, it would be now.

Sansa had finally entered the room, followed by Littlefinger, and all of the Lords and Ladies stood up, as was respect to their queen. Littlefinger stood off to the side of the High Table while Sansa took to her seat. Once she had taken her seat, everyone else did the same and silence was all that remained in the Great hall. Jon’s eyes, for an instant, looked over to where Littlefinger was and in that moment, he could see him smirking. It was then that Jon decided, no matter what the outcome of this trial would be, he would keep his promise to Littlefinger. Jon’s hand slowly crept up Longclaw’s scabbard and onto the ruby eyed white wolf pommel. His hand tightened as he took another look at Littlefinger.

Bran sat in-between Sansa and Rickon on Sansa’s left while Arya refused to sit with them. Jon had asked her to at least sit with Daenerys and Theon over near the back of the room. They all seemed more irritated than he was at everyone else. The only one who looked sorrowful was Rickon.

“Now that we’ve all gathered,” Sansa began, “let’s get this get this over with.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jon asked.

“It’s not what I want, it’s what honor demands.”

“Honor?” Rickon intruded. “What in seven hells is honorable about this?”

“Rickon, you don’t understand-” Sansa said.

“No, I don’t! I don’t understand any of this! I don’t understand any of you!” Rickon seemed to gain the attention of everyone in the Great Hall as he stood up from his seat. “We all made Jon our King, because he’s the one to lead against the dead! I wasn’t sure about it until I saw them in a vision! I saw the Night King! I saw his army!” Jon wasn’t sure what Rickon was talking about. How and when did he see the Army of the Dead and the White Walkers. “I saw those eyes, those cold blue eyes, looking right at me. The Night King shattered my sword even though I wasn’t really there. I saw the army stretching out to the horizon, and that made me realize the truth. We can’t beat them. The North can’t beat them. Jon knew that already and went south to get help! And you’re all refusing it because of what? There’s no honor to any of this. It’s all just your pride! You can’t accept the truth that we can’t do this alone! You know what I say to all of you? Fuck your pride!” Even with Rickon’s ranting, the lords and ladies remained silent. “Jon was the one to raise the armies to fight against the Boltons! Some of you here fought for him while the rest of cowered away in your castles!”

“Rickon!” Sansa shouted. He looked at her afraid. His words were harsh, but they were true. “You’re absolutely right, which is why we are having this trial.”

“But he’s our brother.”

“I know, and I know Jon never to break a promise either. This trial is to make sure he keeps that promise. I begging you, sit down and trust me.” Rickon looked over to Jon, worried. Jon just smiled at him and nodded. Rickon looked like he was on the verge of tears as he sat back down in his seat. Jon couldn’t help but feel proud of Rickon. What he did was disrespectful, but he showed authority, and integrity, and faced everything head on. He would make a good lord someday. Sansa resumed the trial, determined that nothing would stop it. “You stand here accused of treason, conspiracy, and murder.”

_‘Murder? Who did I murder?’_ Jon began puzzled, wondering if this was some lie Sansa was told, but her next words confirmed it wasn’t.

“How do answer these charges,” her gaze turned from Jon to someone else, “Lord Baelish?”

Jon couldn’t hold back a smile that formed on his face as he looked at Sansa. He couldn’t believe what she just did, Arya and Rickon feeling the same way. He then looked over to Lord Baelish who looked as if he was experiencing defeat for the first time. “The Queen asked you a question,” Jon told him.

Lord Baelish regained his posture, trying to act casual. “Your grace, forgive me, but I’m a bit confused.”

Jon snickered at his remark as Sansa didn’t shift her mood at Littlefinger. “Which charges confuse you? Let’s start with the simplest one. You murdered our aunt, Lysa Aryn. You pushed her through the moon door and watched her fall. Do you deny it?”

Jon kept his hand around Longclaw’s pommel as he walked from the center of the room up to the High table. “I did it to protect you.” Lord Baelish stated.

“You did it to take power in the Vale. Earlier you conspired to murder Jon Aryn. You gave Lysa Tears of Lys to poison him. Do you deny it?”

Lord Baelish continued to act sly as he stepped forward to explain himself. “Whatever your aunt might’ve told you, she was a trouble woman. She imagined enemies everywhere.”

“You had our aunt Lysa send a letter to our parents telling them it was the Lannisters who murdered Jon Aryn when it was you. The conflict between the Starks and the Lannisters, it was you who started it. Do you deny it?” Sansa’s tone grew more impatience the more Littlefinger gave excuses rather than a straight answer.

“I know of no such letter,” he lied.

“You attempted to conspire with Robett Glover, Yohn Royce, Cley Cerwyn, Ned Umber, and Wyman Manderly to overthrow Jon Snow and banish him back to the Wall. Do you deny it?”

Lord Baelish looked around at the lords she named, looking betrayed. Lord Glover stood up, smirking at Littlefinger. “Did you honestly expect us to trust you? Everyone who knows you also knows not to trust you.”

“And yet you helped Sansa usurp the Throne in the North all the same.” Lord Baelish looked like he had the upper hand.

Jon decided to contribute a bit to this feud. “She usurped nothing,” he said to all of them. Littlefinger turned around, looking confused at Jon. “I did leave her in charge after all.”

“Moving on,” Sansa said, “You conspired with Cersei Lannister and Joffrey Baratheon to betray our father Ned Stark. Thanks to your treachery he was imprisoned and later executed on false charges of treason. Do you deny it?”

“I deny it!” Littlefinger exclaimed. He faced every lord as he desperately tried to justify himself. “None of you were there to see what happened! None of you knows the truth!”

“You held a knife to his throat,” Bran spoke. Littlefinger turned his head to face him, shocked that he knew. “You said, ‘I did warn you not to trust me.’”

Arya stood up from her seat next to Daenerys and walked slowly up to Littlefinger. “You told our mother that this knife belonged to Tyrion Lannister.” She unsheathed the Valyrian dagger that Jon was now just noticing. He was surprised that she was able to get ahold on something like that. Arya held up the dagger as if inspecting it and showing it for all to see. “But that was another one of your lies, it was yours.”

Littlefinger approached the table, heading directly for Sansa, but Jon immediately drew Longclaw and blocked his path. Littlefinger took a few steps back, holding his hand out in front of the sword. “Your grace, I’ve known you since you were a little girl, I’ve protected you.”

“Protected me?” Sansa questioned. “By selling me to the Boltons?”

Littlefinger tried to ignore her counter, “if we could only speak alone, I can explain everything.”

Sansa sat back in her chair, her tone calmer and composed. “Sometimes when I’m trying to understand a person’s motives, I play a little game, I assume the worst” Jon didn’t know what she was talking about, but Littlefinger looked like he regretted something. “What’s the worst reason you have for turning me against my family? That’s what you do, that’s what you’ve always done. Turn family against family, turn sibling against sibling, that’s what you did to our mother and aunt Lysa and that’s what you tried to do with me and Jon.”

“Sansa please,” he begged.

“I’m a slow learner. It’s true, but I learn.”

“Give me a chance to defend myself, I deserve that,” he demanded. Sansa just ignored him, tired of what he had to say. Littlefinger turned around and approached Lord Royce and the Knights of the Vale that accompanied him in the Great Hall. “I am Lord Protector of the Vale and I command you to escort me safely back to the Eyrie.”

“I think not,” Lord Royce sternly told him.

There was the softest of laughter amongst the lords and ladies as Littlefinger turned back to the Stark children and fell on his knees. “Sansa, I beg you! I’ve loved your mother since the time I was a boy!”

“And yet, you betrayed her,” Sansa countered.

“I loved you, more than anyone.” His words sounded more desperate than sly. Jon’s grip tightened around the handle of his sword.

“And yet, you betrayed me.” Sansa stood up, looking down on the feeble lord. “When you brought me back to Winterfell, you told me there’s no justice in the world, not unless we make it. Thank you for all your many lessons, Lord Baelish. I will never forget them, but it’s time for Jon to keep his promise to you.” Sansa turned her head to Jon and nodded, knowing exactly what she meant.

Jon stepped forward to Littlefinger as he dreadfully tried to talk his way out of it. “Sansa-” Longclaw’s edge cut clean across his throat, blood pouring out of the cut like a fountain, before anymore vile things could come from his mouth. Jon looked at the part of the blade that made the cut and was amazed at the clean kill. He sheathed his sword as Littlefinger grabbed at his wound, still trying to talk his way out of things but only able to gag. “I… I… need…” He fell to the ground, motionless, and dead.

Jon let out a large exhale as he turned around to Sansa as she smiled at him. “I thought you could use a welcome home gift,” She said, earning a laugh from Jon.

“I think everyone here considers it a gift.” He told her as many of the lords banged on their tables, chuckling.

Sansa stood up from her seat and moved aside from it. “The seat is yours, your grace.” She said, offering the Chair of the High Table to him. Jon looked at it for a moment before wearing an amused smile.

“Let’s get the floor clean of the dead rat first.” He turned to face all of the men and women present in the Great Hall. “We’ll reconvene in an hour.” As the Lords and Ladies dispersed, Jon spotted Lyanna Mormont. “Lady Mormont,” he called out. She turned to look at him, curious. “I’d like a moment with you and Ser Jorah outside please.” She looked over at her cousin who sat next to Daenerys. Her eyes seemed ready to kill him. She nodded and waiting for him and Ser Jorah to join her outside in the courtyard. There was snow falling lightly, the kind that felt like only magic could make happen.

“Your grace,” Lady Mormont said, “I understand that Jorah’s allegiance is with Daenerys Targaryen, but why in any hell would you allow him back into the North? He’s disgraced our family and brought shame upon us.”

“Aye, I did.” Jorah confirmed. “I’ve done many things I regret, I’d change them if I could, but all I can do now is try to be better than who I was.”

“Is that supposed to even make me think of forgiving you? You might be my kin, but I’d have you suffer the same fate I’d have Ramsay Bolton suffered if I had the chance.” She looked up to Jon, “but if the King trusts you, then I will tolerate you.”

Ser Jorah looked terrified of the young girl before him. He looked over to Jon, amazed. “You weren’t lying.”

Jon snickered as he undid his belt that held his sword. “Your father gave me this sword at Castle Black. He changed the pommel from a bear to a wolf, but it’s still Longclaw.” He wrapped the belt around the scabbard and held it out to Jorah. he carefully took the sword in his hands and reminisced its feel. “Lord Commander Mormont thought you’d never come back to Westeros, but you are back and it’s been in your family for centuries. It’s not right for me to have it anymore.”

Jorah pulled the blade out of the scabbard and held it closely, gazing upon the pattern of rippled stars the Valyrian steel made. “He gave it to you?” he asked as if Jon was giving up his inheritance.

“I’m not his son.” Ser Jorah looked down to Lady Mormont and this would probably be the only time she didn’t look angry at him. He sighed as he sheathed the sword back into his scabbard and looked at the pommel before turning his head and looking behind Jon at something and then back to him.

“When I was found selling slaves, I brought not only shame to my house, but I broke my father’s heart. I forfeited the right to claim this sword.” He looked down to Lady Mormont again, as if asking for her approval for something. She gestured her head at Jon, the tiniest of smiles could be seen in the corner of her lips. Jorah held the sword back to Jon, “it’s yours,” he told him. “May it serve you well,” Jorah eye’s darted behind Jon again before he leaned in a bit and whispered to him, “and your children after you.”

“Ser Jorah,” Daenerys said as she walked up from behind Jon. “I hope there’s nothing wrong.”

“Not at all,” Jorah told her.

“Jon, if you’re done, your sister Sansa would like a word with us.”

“Jorah,” Lady Mormont said, “I’d like to know of what is you’ve been doing ever since you ran away from your punishment.”

“I dare not defy the Lady of my house.” He told her as they walked off.

Jon accompanied Daenerys back inside, but they were heading for Sansa’s solar. As Jon finally strapped Longclaw back to his hip, Daenerys inquired about Rickon. “I never thought a boy so young could face something like that.”

“He’s a Northman, we’re born tough.”

“What was that he said about seeing the Night King and his army?”

“I don’t know, he said he had a vision of it, but I’m still warming up to knowing my family after I haven’t seen them in years. Next time we see him, let’s find out.”

As they approached the doors to the solar, Sansa had left it open for them to enter freely. When they walked inside, Jon and Daenerys were joined by Sansa, Bran, Arya, Rickon, and Sam. “Your grace,” Sansa said as she stood up from her chair and approached the Dragon Queen. “I’d like to ask your forgiveness for my attitude towards you when you arrived. I was merely trying to keep appearances and couldn’t allow Lord Baelish to suspect anything.”

“I understand, I’ve had my share of keeping false appearances.” Daenerys smiled at Sansa and she smiled back, bowing her head.

“Bran’s told me that you know he’s Rhaegar and Lyanna’s bastard.” Sansa asked.

“I do,” Daenerys confirmed.

“Actually,” Arya said, “you don’t.” She looked over to Sam and nodded at him. He carried a book at his side as he stepped forward to Jon.

“Jon, while I was at the Citadel, Gilly and I found something that changes everything.” He opened the book and flipped through the pages until he reached a passage and showed it to him. “This is the diary of High Septon Maynard. Before Robert’s Rebellion, he met with Rhaegar and annulled his marriage to Elia Martell before he wed him and Lyanna in a secret ceremony in Dorne.”

“What?” Jon asked, growing pale.

“You’re not a bastard, you never were. You’re the true heir to the Iron Throne.” Sam said. Daenerys was just as shocked as Jon was. No one said anything, they just let the silence surround them. Jon turned around and walked out of the room without saying a word. “Jon!” Sam called out.

Jon didn’t listen to any of them, he just left them there. As Jon walked throughout Winterfell, he grew angry and irritated. _‘Fucking hells!’_ he kept thinking. He found his way into the Godswood where Ygris and Lyarras where curled up together, resting. They looked up at him when they noticed him walking to the weirwood. Jon leaned up against the tree, cursing at anything he could. All his life, he was trying to figure out who he was and who he was going to be, but ever since he first left Winterfell the answers kept changing over and over for him. “Can’t I just be a bastard?”

“Gah!” Jon turned his head and saw Daenerys on the ground, clenching at the wound in her leg. She must’ve walked all the way by herself. Jon rushed over to her and knelt down beside her.

“Seven hells, you can’t walk by yourself yet!”

“Why’d you leave?” She asked, forgetting her pain and looking right at him.

“What was I supposed to say?”

“Something at least.”

“Like what, I’m the rightful King?”

“By right, you are.”

“Dammit, I don’t want a damn throne!” Jon help her up as she was ready to stand. “I just… I don’t want any of this, the fighting, the thrones. I just want to live a good life without people telling me what I am, I want to be my own person!” Jon felt exhausted and confused.

“Sometimes we can’t do what we want, we have to do what is needed.”

“You’re say that I’m needed to be on the throne instead of you?” He shook his at her, “I’m not taking the Iron Throne from you.”

“Then don’t take it from me, take it with me.” Daenerys began to look worried and sad. “You’ve never felt you belonged anywhere in your life, neither have I until I met you. I knew my place was in Westeros, but as far as who would be with me, I never knew that.”

“Daenerys-”

“Why did you protect me Wildfire? Because of honor? To save a life? Tell me why Jon.”

Jon couldn’t seem to form any words. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. He wanted to but he couldn’t. Daenerys began to show tears forming in her eyes as the silence dragged on. He couldn’t bare to watch her be sad, so he tried to show her why instead. He cupped his hands on her cheeks and the next thing he knew, his lips met with hers. _‘Because I love you.’_ He pulled away for moment just to look at her eyes, as if to see if she heard what he was trying to say. She pulled him back to her and they kissed again, like it was the air they needed to breathe. His hands went from her cheeks to her back as she ran her bare fingers through his hair.

When they parted their lips, they touched their foreheads together, feeling the warmth they had to give to each other. “Jon,” Daenerys whispered, “I want you beside me when we win the wars to come.”

“Are you asking to marry me?” He whispered back.

“I thought I’d leave that to you.”

Jon smiled as he looked into her eyes again. “Daenerys, will you be mine?”

Before she could answer, Lyarras screeched at them, drawing their attention to an audience of Starks and dragons. Arya was the only smirking at them, looking satisfied. Jon and Daenerys parted from eachother as they both were at a loss for words.

Jon offered his arm to Daenerys to hold onto and she gladly took it. As the two of them approached the others, Arya broke to awkward silence. “So what’s your answer to him?”

“You could hear us whispering from all the way over here?” Jon asked.

“It’s a skill I learned in Braavos.”

“Who taught you that?”

“No one.” She said, still smirking. “So what’s your answer?”

“Answer to what?” Sansa asked, oblivious.

Daenerys looked at Jon, who was wanting to know the answer himself, before looking back to Arya. “My answer is yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How'd ya like them apples?


	36. Rickon IV

Rickon

The floors of the Great Hall were finally clean of all the blood that leaked from Littlefinger's neck. His body was tossed in the mud outside of Winterfell and burned. All the lords and ladies of the North had gathered back in the Great Hall, muttering about what would happen next. Per Jon's request, Rickon sat in the head seat of the High Table and Bran sat on his right. The next order of business was going to be in their hands since it concerned them. As the voices quieted down, Theon Greyjoy stood up from his seat and approached the center of the room. He had changed so much since Rickon saw him when he took Winterfell. He didn't even look like the Theon he knew before. He looked like parts of him were aging faster than they should've. Rickon stood up, as he was instructed beforehand by Jon and Sansa on how to address the room. The lords and ladies silenced as Rickon spoke. "My lords, we will now begin the trial of Theon Greyjoy." Theon eyes were kept to the ground, afraid to look at the ones he betrayed. All of those around him just looked at him like he was a pathetic creature, questioning 'why is he even still breathing?' "Theon Greyjoy, you stand accused of murder, treason, conspiracy, theft, desertion, rebellion, oathbreaking, and rebellion. How do you face these charges?"

"Guilty on all accounts." The hate for him grew even greater than it already was.

"You admit to your crimes? You have no defense as to why you committed them?"

"I do not. I am guilty of all that you said, there's nothing more to it than that."

Who was this man? The person Rickon saw before him was not Theon Greyjoy. Theon Greyjoy always had the last laugh in any conversation. Theon Greyjoy was an arrogant boy who always pushed people's sanities to their limits with his rude behavior. "The punishment for even just a few of the crimes I listed is death. And yet, I am curious as to one thing." Theon still didn't look up to them. He looked terrified. "I'm curious to know who are you?" This finally got Theon to look up at them and the people around to whisper to themselves. "The man I see before me is not Theon Greyjoy, you're someone else. Tell us all what happened to Theon Greyjoy after the Boltons took Winterfell."

"I am Theon Greyjoy."

"You look like him, but you don't act like him. I'll order you again, tell us what happened to Theon Greyjoy."

He hesitated at first, starting to shiver. "Theon was flayed by the Boltons at the Dreadfort. They tried to break him, but then Ramsay set him free. Theon didn't know who Ramsay was when he did. When Theon tried to escape the North, Ramsay found him and lured him into a trap. He was flayed again and broken into a thousand pieces. Theon died on a cross. He was tortured, cut, and finally castrated." This caused another murmur amongst the lords, some of them shocked. "That was when Theon became who I am, he became Reek."

There was silence after that, the hate wasn't gone, but something resembling whatever the smallest amount of sympathy was lingered. "Sansa told me about you when she returned to Winterfell. You told her the truth about me and Bran. You betrayed her when she asked you to help her," Theon slightly winced every time Rickon listed something else he'd done, "and you saved her life from Ramsay when you helped her escape from him."

Rickon let Theon hear what he said before Lord Royce spoke forward. "My lord, it is indeed true that Lady Sansa escaped because of him, but that cannot forgive him of the things he's done."

"It wasn't just her life he saved," Bran said, "if he and his Ironborn never captured Winterfell, the Boltons would have done to us what they did to him. We would've died, as would many others have. You didn't mean to, but you kept us alive."

"My lords, that still does not make up for what he's done, even after the suffering Ramsay put him through."

"It doesn't," Theon said, "that's why I came back. To do anything that might by close to making things right."

"Not even this can do that!" Lady Mormont told him.

"I know. Whatever justice you see fit, I'll accept it. The Iron Fleet will not attack and neither will Yara. My life is forfeit to you." Theon looked up to Rickon and Bran, shriveled and shaking.

"You'll give up your life that easily?" Rickon asked. "What about something to fight for? What about your son?" Theon went from afraid to stunned. Rickon stood up, looking at the man before him. "Whoever Reek was, he's gone, but you're not the Theon I know, you're a different Theon. One who I trust."

"My lord!" Lord Glover said, "you can't just forgive him for his crimes against your family."

"I'm not forgiving him. Justice must beserved. But before I do, I have one more question for the accused. Why did you do it?"

"Because… I hated you, all of you Starks. Growing up here, I was treated better than Jon because I wasn't a bastard, but I was still a hostage. I didn't belong here, with you. The more time I spent here, the more I wanted to be a Stark more than a Greyjoy. Because I wanted my father to proud of me. But no matter what I did, Balon Greyjoy never treated me like Ned Stark did."

Rickon let the words sink in. he was still too young to understand most of the things about the world, but he knew enough for right now. "Theon Greyjoy, you are found guilty of all charges, but considering what's coming for all of us from the north, you will not die today." There was discontent amongst the lords, but Rickon wasn't finished. "However, when the wars are won and peace is found, you will be forbidden to set foot in the North ever again unless by invitation of the King or the Warden of the North." Jon seemed to be a bit disapproving of this, but this was Rickon's choice. "The rest of your sentence is as follows, you will leave Winterfell tomorrow morning and return to the Iron Islands. After that, I suppose you'll follow whatever your Queen wants of you. And after that… be better than who you were."

Rickon sat down, ending the trial. Theon just kept staring at him, looking sad and overjoyed. Rickon motioned his hand at Theon's seat, signaling him to sit down. Theon looked calm for a moment as he bowed his head and returned to his spot. Jon looked over to Rickon and nodded at him, smiling, as he stepped forward to address the lords.

"I know that many of you feel that true justice has been avoided," Jon said, "but as far as I've seen, a Lord has given justice without robbing mercy, and such a thing is a rare quality in lords, one I think we all should aspire to have." There were small cheers and banging sounded around him.

"Your grace," Lord Glover said, "do you really think we can trust the Ironborn after what they've done to the North?"

"If I knew we couldn't, their fleet would be burned by now and every tree in the Iron Islands would suffer the same fate so that no ship could ever be built again." Lord Glover looked unconvinced, but nodded all the same. "My lords, my ladies, the time has come for a decision to made. A decision of whether or not you would still call me your King and follow me."

"Your grace," Lord Cerwyn said, "we already said that we never truly sided with Lord Baelish and his plan to usurp the throne from you."

"I'm not talking about that," Jon told them, feeling a knot form in his stomach.

"If you're asking us to bend the knee to the Targaryen Queen, we still don't trust her," Lord Mazin said. "Some of us had guessed that you could have their blood in you because of whoever your mother was since you can control dragons, but it can't be that much and you are a Northerner, she is a foreigner. I can assure you we have no intention of letting a Targaryen rule over us."

"Yet you already have when you declared me King in the North." Everyone except those who knew what he meant looked puzzled, talking to each other. "Lord Reed, step forward please." Meera's father stood up from the back row of lords on the left and walked to Jon. "As almost all of us know, you were with Ned Stark when you joined him in Dorne to rescue Lyanna Stark who everyone thought died of fever."

"I was, your grace." Howland told them.

"Would you please tell everyone what she really died of?"

"She died giving birth to you."

The chatter amongst the lords was louder than normal. "It was believed that Prince Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped and raped Lyanna Stark, however thanks to Samwell Tarly of the Night's Watch and the abilities of Bran and Rickon, information about what actually happened has come to light."

"You mean to tell us that you're a Targaryen bastard?" Lord Glover asked as Lord Reed sat back down.

"No, I mean to tell you I'm not a bastard at all. My father Rhaegar annulled his marriage to Elia Martell and wed my mother Lyanna in a secret ceremony. The name I was given at my birth was Aegon Targaryen."

This didn't cause chatter, only silence that was broken by a young Lady. "You mean to say that you're the true heir to the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms?" Lady Mormont asked.

"By right, I am. But I've already talked with Queen Daenerys and told her I have no plan to take the throne from her." The silence continued, every moment of it stabbed at Jon. "Instead, I have decided that I'll be taking it with her."

"You're going to marry her and rule at her side?" Lord Forrester asked.

Daenerys decided to stand up and address the lords and ladies for the first time. "I understand you won't follow a southern ruler, only a northern one. This decision was made by the both of us, and it's what we intend to do when the Long Night is over."

Jon resumed his declaration, "When I was part of the Night's Watch, I met with Mance Rayder after the Battle at Castle Black to try and convince him to bend the knee to Stannis Baratheon. I asked him if his people's survival was more important than his pride when he reffuesed. Later, on Dragonstone, when I told Queen Daenerys that you wouldn't accept a southern ruler, she asked me that exact same question. It was then I understood the position Mance was in. He was made King beyond the Wall because the Free Folk believed in him to save them. You made me the King in the North because you believed I can save you. But if I betray that belief, then what's there to be loyal to? I understand if any of you will still refuse to follow me. That's why I leave the decision of loyalty to you. As of now, I'm not the King in the North unless you all wish it to remain so."

Rickon was nervous. Jon knew he had his sibling's support and Lord Reed's, but that was about the extent of it. There was more chatter filling the room and things weren't looking good for Jon. But hope seemed to appear as a young Lord Umber stood up and got everyone's attention. "Lord Snow, when you thought you were the one on trial today and Lord Rickon defended you, I realized he was right. We disguise pride as honor and it ends up being the death of us. My father betrayed you, Lord Rickon, and even killed his direwolf. He fought against you and broke faith with House Stark. I never wished anything he did upon you, but I wasn't glad when he died, he was my father after all. There were some lords and ladies who thought my house should be punished further for betraying you, but you didn't let them. You showed mercy to me and Lady Karstark for the sins of our fathers. If you can do that, then so can I to the daughter of the Mad King." The young lord drew his sword and knelt down against it. Lady Karstark stood up from her seat and did the same, following the example of Lord Umber. Lord Reed stepped forward again and did as they did. Then no one else seemed to do the same. Instead, Lord Glover began to bang his table in a rhythm. His banging was joined by Lord Manderly and Lord Forrester. The banging grew harder and louder as more lords and ladies joined in the noise. Finally, Ned Umber stood up and raised his sword as high as he could. "The King in the North!"

Everyone else stood up drawing their swords like they did the first time Jon was crowned. "The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North!" Rickon not having a sword anymore could only raise his fist in the air, cheering for Jon.

* * *

The day grew late as the light of the snow began to darken slightly and the cold started to grow fiercer. Rickon was with Jon, Daenerys, Sansa, Sam and his woman friend in the Great Hall eating their supper. Theon had taken his to his room, Arya was feeling sick, and Bran was doing what he normally did, watching everything.

Rickon took a bite of his cooked venison, chewing it quickly before speaking to Jon. "Are we supposed to call you Aegon now?"

Jon swallowed a gulp of ale before replying. "No, I'd prefer to remain Jon."

"What about your family name? You always wanted to be a Stark, but actually you're a Targaryen."

Jon didn't reply at first, he only smiled halfly at Rickon. "I've talked about it with Daenerys and we've decided I'll be Jon Targaryen."

"It has a nice ring to it." Rickon told him. "When will you two be married?"

Within the fortnight," Daenerys said. "After that, hopefully my Hand will arrive with Lord Varys and Ser Davos and the other Dothraki from Dragonstone. Maybe then we'll have some answers about what to expect from the Golden Company."

"Oh no!" Rickon said, remembering something he was looking forward to.

"What is it?" Sansa asked him.

"Your sigil!" He said to Jon. "I had Sansa stitch a sigil for your own house, but I guess you'll be wearing the red dragon from now on."

"You had a sigil made for me?" Jon asked, amazed. "Can I see it?"

"I'd like to see it as well," Sam said.

Rickon wiped his mouth and got up from the table, rushing down the hallways to his room. He returned shortly with a piece of cloth that had excellent needlework done in it. He placed it on the table for everyone to see and they marveled at it. The sigil was a grey field under a black sky and a white direwolf with ruby eyes faced forwards baring its teeth. On its left was a blue dragon head with one wing extended outwards behind it and on the opposite side was a white dragon head mirroring its sister extending its wing. Below the animal in the grey field, words stitched in white read  _'Through Fire and Ice'_.

Rickon was happy when he saw Jon amazed at what he saw. "Sansa made this?"

"I stitched it," Sansa confirmed, "but Rickon came up with the design."

Jon ran his fingers over the cloth, feeling each thread. "It's too beautiful to go to waste. I'll find something for this little brother."

Sam cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention. "Now that I have the chance, I'd like to speak about something that might help us for the Long Night." He directed his words mostly to Jon and Daenerys. "Something else I discovered is the basic principles of how to forge Valyrian steel."

"Sam," Jon said, "That's fantastic."

"Yes, although there's something I'll need your help acquiring if we want to try it."

"What's that?" Jon asked, eager to know.

"Well, when forging the steel, it has to be down in a forge lit with dragon fire."

"Easy enough, if that's all there is to it then we should have every forge lit like that."

"Actually, there's more to it than that. You see, the dragonfire contains magic and when forging the steel in it, it becomes imbued with that magic. However, in order to contain the magic, the steel needs to be quench and hardened in a substance that won't destroy it. The only thing that can is what I'm afraid about getting."

"What is it?" Jon asked.

Sam looked nervous to tell him, feeling he may be rejected. "Like the Targaryens say, with fire and blood, dragon's blood."

"Dragon's blood?" Jon asked. "I never would've thought of that."

"Neither would any smith," Sam told him. "Using blood to quench steel has been tried before, but its not the best thing to use."

Jon turned his gaze to a window, looking outside. "Then I guess the hard part of this will getting the blood itself."

* * *

Before Rickon could prepare for bed, he was asked by Bran to meet him in the Godswood with Jon. The snow continued to fall as it had been the whole day, showing no sign of ending soon. Bran sat next to the weirwood tree and Jon next to him. The three boys stood next to each other, Rickon and Jon wondering what Bran wanted.

"Jon," Bran said, "you wanted to know how we've seen the Night King. It's hard to explain, but it's easier to show you."

"Jon can do it too?" Rickon asked.

"No, he does not possess the sight, but he is a warg like us." Bran held his hand out to both of them, waiting for them to grab hold of it. Rickon and Jon both placed their hands on Bran's and Bran placed his other hand on the weirwood. The moment his hand made contact with the bark, they all felt themselves through the eyes of many ravens that nestled in a tree outside of Winterfell.

They all took flight, heading northeast. The sensation of warging felt incredible to Rickon. It was similar to the greensight, but different in so many ways. He felt as if he was the animal itself. Their thoughts collided and mix, the intentions, the impulses, all of it. Not only could he feel the ravens' presence, but he could also feel Jon and Bran's. The deeper in thought he became, the more he sank into a state of trance. Time seemed to become something he didn't recognize and the flight of the ravens continued to fly throughout the North. After what felt like, something of a time he couldn't tell, the Wall came into view and one of the castles. The flock flew over the Torches and beyond the Wall. Rickon began to notice the sun was starting to rise.  _'How long have we've been flying?'_

They passed over a great forest and some mountains, until finally they flew over a cliff and beheld the Army of the Dead. Rickon could feel the fear coming from Jon. The army was bigger than when he saw it. The ravens flew over was must have been miles of dead soldiers, then they saw a ridge with eight horses, their riders overlooking the army. They instant they got closer to them, the Night King looked right at them and they instantly returned to themselves. Rickon and Jon fell backwards to the ground. Their bodies were covered in a light layer of snow and morning was upon them.

Rickon felt exhausted and he finally noticed a group of spectators surrounded them all. Most of them were guards and some of the residents. Rickon sat himself up, breathing deeply and desiring rest. Bran was the only one who didn't look affected by what happened. "It's bigger than it was at Hardhome." Jon said. "Much bigger."

"He's almost ready," Bran said, "no matter what we do, the Wall will fall."


	37. Tyrion III

Tyrion

Despite the quality of the carriages of the North, the ride to Winterfell was a very pleasant one. The roads were fair and the snowfall was light. However, there were times during the nights that some of the Dothraki grew colder than everyone else since they've never seen snow before or felt its effects. However, this only prompted them to go on a hunt and catch better game for the fur. They even succeeded in killing a brown bear near the Kingsroad. Unfortunately, one of the Dothraki went missing and couldn't be found. During the search for him, some of the Dothraki searching for him thought they heard the sound of wolves howling far away from them.

Gendry seemed to be the best of company, since he tended to have more conversation than the others. Luckily, things got livelier when they regrouped with Varys and Missandei and their company at Castle Cerwyn. The rest of the way was sufferable, yet rather dull.

In his carriage, Tyrion rode with Varys and Missandei while the others rode on horseback as they were getting closer to Winterfell. They were currently discussing the topic of Tyrion proposing an armistice when they didn't even have a plan to secure their proof for one. "Even if you manage to even convince anyone to agree to this," Varys said, "how do you even plan on securing a dead soldier?"

"The convincing will be they easy part, given that we'll need the rest of the Dothraki and the Unsullied to even stand a chance. But if the other lords of Westeros realize what the true threat is, they might even give us their support as well, making the fight even easier for us. Not only that, but it will show true unity of the Seven Kingdoms, hopefully winning over some allies in the war after with Cersei." Tyrion had to settle for Northern Ale rather than wine, but he seemed to enjoy it more. He took a long swig of it from his leather pouch, trying to get drunk to ease his mind of the problems he had to solve. "As far as how, I'm afraid someone else is going to have to figure that out. The plan I have is fairly simple. Go north of the Wall and capture one soldier. As for who will do it and how, I have no idea."

"Whoever it will be, they'll fair better with the help of the Wildings, though the mutual trust between them might be hostile if its someone with poor feelings toward the Wildlings. Perhaps a Ranger from the Wall might be best."

"Whoever it is, we can discuss it with when we get to Winterfell. I'm sure the King will know of who trust the Wildlings and who the Wildlings trust."

"The King?" Missandei asked. "Jon Snow was successful taking back the crown of the North?"

Varys grew a sly smirk. "Oh, my dear lady, he's down far more than reclaim the North. As it stands, he's even won the heart of our Queen and plans to take the Iron Throne with her after we're through in the North."

"He did?" Tyrion asked, wide eyed and delighted. Missandei looked down to her feet, attempting to hide her smile. He laughed as he took another drink from his pouch. "As I've said countless times before, he's the greatest bastard of them all."

"My dear friend, it turns out he was never a bastard to begin with." Tyrion and Missandei both looked at Varys at the same time, confused. "My birds have sung to me a very fascinating song about a prince who ran away with his true love, and I think you'll find it most amazing." Before he could convey his information, there was a knocking on the left side window of the carriage. Tyrion, being closest to it, undid the locking mechanism and opened it. The knocker was Gendry, and he looked very interested in the conversation.

"Can you talk louder?" He asked. "This is getting interesting and I can't hear very well and neither can Davos."

Davos was riding next to Gendry and sighed, "That was the point so they wouldn't know we were listening."

"It's quite alright," Varys told them, "all of the Lords of the North know and already word is spreading fast of the truth."

"What truth?" Davos asked. Varys told them everything he knew about Jon's revelation and all that led up to it and the demise of Petyr Baelish.

"I see," Tyrion said, "Ned Stark had to so that the great King Robert wouldn't have another innocent babe killed. Though I must say, even if he did know but didn't care, my father wouldn't've let that slide."

"Well then it's a good thing he's dead," Gendry said.

"Forgive me, but what was your name again?" Varys asked.

Before Gendry could tell him, Davos answered instead. "His name's Clovis. He's a smith whose goin to work at the Winterfell forges."

"I thought you said his name was Gendry." Tyrion asked, suspicious.

"Gendry," Varys said, intrigued. "You wouldn't happen to be a bastard, would you? Specifically, Robert Baratheon's?" Tyrion choked on his ale, spilling some of it down his cheeks. Gendry didn't say anything, he only nodded. "Well now, that is remarkable. It seems bastards this day and age are reaching new heights. Fate and destiny are either playing a game of their own or just letting the pieces fall wherever they wish. If my memory serves me right, which it does, you were an apprentice to Tobho Mott."

"I was, before the queen had him executed." Gendry confirmed.

"Yes, for accepting a job in Winterfell."

"How'd you know all this?" Gendry asked, fascinated.

"I make it my job to know as much as I can about everything and everyone. I know all about you and your journey with the Night's Watch and your capture. Although after that, you just went missing. But, what amazes me most is the space you'll be filling for your master at Winterfell."

"The only thing he ever told me was that he would make history. Davos said it was something about making weapons from rocks called dragonass."

"Dragonglass." Tyrion corrected, chuckling.

"My boy, it is much more than that. Not too long ago, a man from the Citadel arrived at Winterfell with the evidence of Rhaegar and Lyanna's marriage, but it wasn't the only thing he brought. Supposedly, he also uncovered the secret to creating Valyrian Steel."

"Is he a bastard as well?" Tyrion asked.

"Not this time, but that doesn't seem to stop him from amazing me. He's a brother of the Night's Watch and the stories about him are quite remarkable. He ranged North with Jeor Mormont, he let Brandon Stark through the Wall, and he even cured our Ser Jorah of his Greyscale when the Arch Maester forbade it." Varys's moment of admiration was ended abruptly. "The only thing that troubles me is his name."

"If he's not a bastard, I can't see why it would trouble you."

"He's actually the son of a certain lord our Queen executed at the Blackwater Rush. His name is Samwell Tarly."

Tyrion didn't say anything, he only felt distressed.  _'Of all the people in the world, it had to a fucking Tarly.'_ "And he's at Winterfell, right now, with the Queen?"

"See for yourself," Gendry said from outside. "The Castle's just up ahead." Tyrion stuck his head out the window and looked outside. Winterfell was in the distance and he could see the not just the queen's dragons, but Jon's as well, flying in the skies above the castle.

As the convoy entered through the gates, the carriage stopped finally and Tyrion stood up, stretching before he put on his fur cloak. "Well, we're about to take the next steps to our deaths or to our victory." The door opened and Tyrion stepped outside, followed by Missandei and then Varys. The cold instantly hit Tyrion's face as he set foot in the muddy snow. Outside of the carriage, there stood all of the Stark children, except for Bran who sat in his chair obviously. Next to them was Jon and Daenerys, both looking happy to see them. "My queen, and soon to be my king," Tyrion curled his lips when Jon looked directly at him. "I can't express the joy I have for you two. I'm glad I could get here before I could miss such a joyous union."

"Lord Tyrion," Jon stepped forward, offering his hand for a shake, "it's good to see again." As Tyrion accepted his hand, his eyes fell on Sansa. "My dear wife," he joked, "I'm glad you made home away from my sister."

"Lord Tyrion," Sansa gave a curtsey and wore an amused smile, "I'm glad your travels were safe."

"For me yes, for one of the men, no." He turned his gaze to Daenerys. "One of the Dothraki went missing during a hunt and we couldn't find any trace of him. The snows covered his tracks."

"Did everyone else make it back from Dragonstone safely?" Daenerys asked.

"We did your grace, and I have news from King's Landing. I can explain further in our next war council."

"That won't be until later today," Jon informed. "For now, let's get you unsettled and into your rooms."

"Arry!" Gendry said from behind Tyrion. He walked past him straight towards Arya Stark. "I can't believe you're still alive!"

The instant he got close to her, she gave him a tight hug, but sounded angry with him. "You Arse! I thought the red witch killed you!"

The only person Tyrion could think of that could fir the description of a red witch was Melisandre. "Arse? That's not how a lady should talk." Gendry chuckled as she pushed him away from her. "Ow, that was not very lady like." She drew her small sword and poked the tip at Gendry's tunic.

"For the last time, I'm not a lady."

"Sorry," he told her, "but anyone can point a sword at someone, even a lady."

"I wouldn't test her," Jon said to Gendry as he approached him. "She's probably the second-best fighter in this castle."

The young Stark girl sheathed her sword, looking doubtful at Jon. "Second best?"

Jon didn't say anything, he only smirked at her. He faced Gendry and offered his hand to him. "I'm Jon Snow, and you are?"

"Name's Gendry, milord. I'm Robert Baratheon's son, bastard son that is." This caught the attention of everyone who heard it, but it was as if he was trying to make sure as many who could hear it heard it since almost everyone around them did.

 _'You fucking idiot! Do you not know whose father yours killed?'_ Tyrion thought as he tensed up.

"What?" Arya asked. "When did you learn this?"

"When the Brotherhood sold me to the red woman."

Jon looked more nervous than anyone else. "I mean no offence, but information like that isn't best to be paraded around. There's quite a lot of bad history with Robert Baratheon and the Targaryens." Tyrion noticed Jon trying to keep Daenerys at bay.

"I know that my father was friends with yours, why can't we be?"

"Friends? Your father killed mine in battle." Jon didn't sound angry or offended, in fact it felt as if he was trying to keep the situation calm about this.

"But Eddard Stark was the one who raised you since you born wasn't he? If that's not a father, I don't know what is. I admit, I never met mine or even seen him, but I don't have anyone to call that, so I'll take what I can get."

"Your grace," Tyrion cut in, "I do admit that this is rather unexpected and poor timed. However, given that boy is the last surviving Baratheon in the world, I do believe that this presents the perfect opportunity to restart the relationships and the peace that once existed between the Baratheons and the Targaryens. The lords of the North are giving you the chance to prove that you aren't your father, I see no reason to give the boy the same chance."

"Jon," Arya, "if you don't, I'll prove to everyone here and now who the 'real' best fighter is." As humorous as it sounded, Tyrion knew the girl was being dead serious.

"You know him?" Jon asked.

"We traveled together with the Night's Watch leaving King's Landing. We were captured together by the Lannister men and taken to Harrenhal. And then we escaped together before getting captured by the Brotherhood without Banners. They sold him to a red witch."

"Ser Davos was the one who freed me," Gendry told them. "With nowhere else to go, I went back to Kings Landing."

"I brought here since we need all the help we can get." Ser Davos told them. "And as an added bonus, he's learned the art of reworking Valyrian steel. I skill I hear that you're in need of."

"My lords, my ladies," Tyrion interrupted, "as much as I'd like for this conversation to continue, may we do so indoors? I fear if I get any colder, I'll have to toss myself into Wildfire to warm up."

* * *

With the awkward introductions out of the way, the Meeting in the Great Hall with Tyrion, Jon, Daenerys, the Starks, Gendry per Arya's request, Ser Davos, Jorah, Varys, Missandei, and Brienne of Tarth. The High Table was moved to the center of the Great Hall and everyone took a seat around it. Tyrion told them all of his meeting with his brother and his plan to set up a meeting for an armistice with Cersei while they deal the dead.

"It won't work." Sansa objected. "Even if you could set up a meeting with Cersei, there's no way she wouldn't turn it into a trap."

"Which is why if something were to happen to us, then King's Landing would be sacked by over a hundred thousand soldiers and she would be burned by the rage of the dragons." Tyrion had thought this out carefully on the ride to Winterfell, but he was drunk for most of it. "We need to bring the Essosi Armies to the North and what remains of the Dornish and Reach armies."

"But first we need a wight." Jon reminded. "If we can get ahold of a soldier and present it to the rest of Westeros, they'll see the larger threat and hopefully put oaths aside."

"Not only that, but seeing the dead man might scare the Golden Company out of the way, guaranteeing safe passage from the south."

"Now all that remains is who is going and where do they need to go?" Daenerys said. "If the Night King's Army is amassing to its full strength, then we can't send someone right towards it."

"We won't need to." Bran said. "The bulk of the army is gathering near Hardhome, but small squads of wights are brought to it often. We can intercept one of them."

"But where do we look? The lands beyond the Wall are massive and cold. We can't have anyone out there for weeks on end to find a single group."

"The answer to that is at Eastwatch in the Cold Cells." The cripple just stared out to the distance as he usually did. To be honest, Tyrion felt like he was a talking statue. A wonderous thing, but unnerving.

"I'm not sure I understand," Tyrion told him, "but I doubt anyone does when you tell them things of that nature, no offence."

"None taken."

"Now for the hard part, who wants to go hunt a blue-eyed corpse?"

There was a long sullen silence after those cold words were asked. Everyone knew that no matter who went, someone was going to die. "With the Queen's permission, I'll go." Jorah said, breaking the tension. Daenerys wanted to object, but he wouldn't allow her. "You asked me to find a cure so that I could serve you, allow me to serve you."

"The Free Folk will help us," Jon informed. "they know they north better than anyone else."

"They won't follow Ser Jorah." Davos stated.

"They won't have to." All heads turned to Jon, unbelieved that he was volunteering.

"You can't lead a raid beyond the Wall." Davos countered. "You're not in the Night's Watch anymore, you're the King!"

"I'm the only one here who's fought them, I'm the only one here who knows how they kill." There was a silence of doubt among everyone present. "We all know this is going to be our only chance to seize an opportunity like this. If this does work, and the Realms truly band together to fight for an actual cause, then maybe this will not only unite us, but it will show them that the lands we call home aren't just something to fight and die for, their something to live for."

"I would go with you," Gendry said, "but if I can rediscover Valyrian Steel, then I'll need all the time I can get."

"In that case," Arya said, "we'll send someone who already has Valyrian Steel."

"My lady" Brienne objected, "you are an amazing fighter and no one will argue, but as your sworn shield I cannot allow you to go north of the Wall."

"They'll need fighters as much as hunters." Arya began to grow irritated. She felt like everyone was treating her like a helpless girl.

"I must agree with Brienne on this," Jon said, "I won't let you go north. I'll lock you in a cell if I have to."

"You honestly think a cell will stop me?"

"No, I don't. But me asking because I don't think I could live watching you die and rise with cold blue eyes would." There was another painful silence. "Arya, if you were to become one of them, I don't think I could bring myself to put a blade in you, even if its to set you free of whatever spell is cast."

"In that case, I'll go." Brienne said. She looked right at Arya, "You still haven't reached further than a stalemate when we duel. And if me going keeps you here safe from the north, then I'll go." Arya still looked upset, but nodded in agreement.

"Then it's settled," Tyrion declared. "Ser Jorah Mormont, King Jon Snow, and Brienne of Tarth will bring back a dead man."

"I won't let you leave," Daenerys said to Jon, looking worried.

"Daenerys, I-" Jon was cut off by the boldness of the queen.

"Not until we're married and I know for sure that there's no way you'd allow yourself be killed."

"Seven hells," Tyrion exclaimed, "I completely forgot to ask, but when is that?"

"Two days from now." Daenerys informed.

"I think that's just enough time to prepare for the expedition. Are there any objections?" No one seemed to be bothered, so everything was in order. "Wonderful. Now then, lets plan a wedding."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter is the Wedding, WOO!


	38. Jon XIV & Daenerys VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, this is not a smut

Jon

It was nearly time for the greatest moment of his life. Jon wrestled with the collar of the suit Sansa had made for him in his solar. He felt utterly ridiculous in it. But he did have to credit where it was due, the suit itself looked wonderful. Everything about it reflected something about him. The main color was black and covered in a feather like pattern, representing his service in the Night's Watch. Over his left breast was a white Stark direwolf stitched in the tunic and on his right, was the Targaryen dragon. On each side of the neck of his collar were two dragons. One white and one blue.

The last thing he needed to put on were his gloves and before he did, Sam entered the room, eyeing at Jon's attire. "You look fantastic," he commented. He only had his steward's uniform and Night's Watch cloak available.

"It itches more than I thought it would."

"It can't be that bad. You only have to wear it for tonight."

"Thank the gods for that." Jon slipped on his gloves and tied his hair back in a knot.

"Are you nervous?" Sam finally asked.

"No, I'm not nervous. I was nervous when I joined the Night's Watch, I was nervous when we fought at Castle Black, I was nervous when the dragons hatched, but this, I'm completely terrified."

"Love tends to do that to people from what I've noticed. You do love her, don't you?"

"More than anything."

"Then what are you terrified about? Just take it one day at a time."

Jon snickered at Sam's advice. "Samwell Tarly, where would have I gotten in this world without you?"

"Save the flattery for your intended." Jon could see Sam trying to hide something behind his mask of positivity.

"Sam," Jon said, dropping his optimistic tone, "Daenerys told me yesterday she spoke with you."

Sam dropped his smile, failing to keep it up. "She did."

"Sam… I'm sorry for what happened to your father."

"I'm not mad at her." Sam stated, confusing Jon. "My father was always an ass. Threatening to leave me to die or go the Watch was the last real mercy he ever showed to me. I don't give a damn that he burned. It's my brother I'm mad at." Sam began to look distressed. "Why did he have to share our father's pride? He still had his life in front of him, and he threw it all away."

Jon wasn't expecting Sam's anger to be at the victims of the execution. But he understood how he felt. When he learned of Robb's decisions in the War of the Five Kings and how he broke his vows to the Freys, he couldn't help but call him a fool. "Then be the one to prove them wrong. Show them, wherever they're watching, that you're better than them."

Sam's spirits were lifted, growing his smile back. "Jon Snow, where would I have gotten in this world without you?" They both chuckled together as Jon grabbed his cloak that bore the Stark sigil and put it around his shoulders. Even though he was going to take the name Targaryen, Daenerys said that she would be joining the family of Stark and wanted that to be recognized. It was time.

"Are you ready?" Sam asked, anxious to get to the Godswood.

"As I'll ever be." They both walked out of Jon's room together and through the hallways of Winterfell. When they reached outside, they were greeted by a beautiful snowfall. Though the moon was covered and the clouds above were thick, the light of the lit torches reflected their light off the snow, giving a warm feel to the surroundings.

They passed many of the guards and residents, all of them reflecting joyful feelings, as the approached the entrance to the Godswood. When they entered, they were greeted by every one of the Northern Lords and Ladies, Daenerys's company, and even Tormund and a few Free Folk came down for the wedding.

"I thought you said Northern weddings were fairly small gatherings." Sam stated.

"Usually they are," Jon told him as they walked through the aisle of lanterns to the weirwood. Rickon stood in front of the tree as he would be the one to conduct the wedding being the rightful Lord of Winterfell. He looked more nervous than Jon felt. Bran was offered to perform the ceremony, but he refused saying he had something he had to do. But for all Jon could see, Bran was sitting right next to the weirwood.

Jon took his place on one side of the aisle as Sam left him and stood next to Tormund who was off to the side along with Davos, Sansa, and Arya. They couldn't contain their joy and their smiles at him, though Sansa looked more proud of her needlework than she was of her brother. Jon looked at Rickon who was still nervous, but he showed Jon some absurdity with what could pass as a smile.

Jon was starting to feel anxious, but that ended when his eye's fell upon the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

* * *

Daenerys

Her hands were shaking. Not only from the cold, but from the fear. Missandei had just left after helping her into her wedding dress. It was the warmest dress she'd ever worn, but it also the most beautiful. Sansa stark worked wonders with a needle. The white was the same as the snow and laced into the sleeves were many dragons, dancing with each other. The cloak she wore was rather simple compared to the dress. It was a basic black with the Targaryen dragon. She sat down in a chair in her chambers, debating if this really was the best thing to do. She can't have children, yet she wanted to spend all of her life with Jon.

As she kept on thinking, there was a knock on her door. She stood up, assuming a regal posture. "Who is it?" She asked.

"It's me, your grace," Ser Jorah replied.

"Come in." The door opened and Ser Jorah walked in, clad in Northern clothes. His cloak had a Bear pelt over resting on his shoulders and on the straps, was a pin resembling the Mormont bear sigil. "You're cousin allowed you to dress as a Mormont?" Daenerys asked, amazed. From what she'd seen of young Lyanna Mormont, the Lady of Bear Island was not to be trifled with and she also had a temper towards Jorah."

"Just for tonight, your grace. She said that tonight was for someone else and I would be allowed to be what I once was."

Daenerys smiled at him, happy to know that the fierce lady also knew compassion. "I'm not sure I can go through with this."

"Your grace, what is troubling you?"

"If Jon and I do win the wars to come, and we do rule Westeros to the end of our days, what then? You know I can't have children. Am I to chained Jon to my curse as well? After we die, the Targaryens will truly be gone."

"May I speak freely, your grace."

"Of course."

"If I were you, I would say to hell with the future. Just keep your mind on tonight. Do something for yourself for once and enjoy every moment of what tonight has to offer, because right now it doesn't matter if you can't have children or if you're the last Targaryen. What matters is what you want." He offered his hand out to her. She was hesitant, but she grabbed hold of it and proceed to wrap her arm around Jorah's. He smiled at her and began to lead her out of her room.

The entire walk to the Godswood was nerve-racking. Daenerys did want this to happen, but how long would this joy last was what couldn't escape her mind. But it all changed once she entered the Godswood and saw what was before here. Lanterns had been lit and lined up forming a path to the weirwood tree. Every lord and lady of the North she'd seen so far was there, watching her walk with Ser Jorah. Daenerys recalled Jon telling her that Northern weddings were small gatherings, and this was not small. Her attention finally turned to Jon standing next to his brother Rickon on his right at the weirwood. Behind him he could see his other brother, Bran, placing hand on the tree and continuing to watch them. Missandei, Tyrion, and Varys. The worry that encased her shattered as Jorah stopped in front of the Lord of Winterfell.

The was a second of silence before the ceremony began. "Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Rickon said to all who could hear.

Ser Jorah released Daenerys and stepped forward. "Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

Jon stepped up to face Daenerys, his eyes never leaving her and entrancing to look at.  _'You must look in his eyes always, love comes in at the eyes.'_

"Jon Snow, of House Stark and House Targaryen, The King in North and Lord of the Dreadfort. Who gives her?"

"Jorah, of House Mormont, who is her Queensguard."

The young Lord Rickon seemed to be calm finally as he continued. "Queen Daenerys, do you take this man?"

She was lost in the essence of Jon's eyes for what felt like an eternity. "I take this man." Jon and Daenerys took each other's hand and they turned to the weirwood and knelt down before it. She was told that this is when a silent prayer would be given, but she was never a firm believer in any faith, since Jon asked her, she would give a short one.  _'I just want us to be happy.'_  When they rose up, Jon walked behind her and removed her Targaryen cloak and proceeded to remove his Stark cloak. He wrapped his around her, completing the ceremony and the union between them. She decided to listen to Jorah and think of what she wanted tonight. When he stood back in front of her, she couldn't help but lean up to kiss him right in front of everyone. This kiss wasn't like their first one, it was less desperate to continue, but more desirable. When they parted, they both smiled at each other and faced to onlookers. All that mattered to her at that moment was the one who stood next to her.

* * *

Jon

The Great Hall was bursting with noise. Northern music was playing and sounds of conversations and laugher filled the room. Delicious foods were served and the company of friends made it taste all the better. Jon sat with Daenerys at the High Table, feasting with their family and enjoying every bit of the night. Something that amused Jon was he gaze constantly finding Tormund, attempting to woo Brienne of Tarth. Tyrion was sitting with Missandei and Davos, either making wise remarks or telling jokes given how much they were laughing. Daenerys at one pointed inquired about Brienne's squire who was surrounded many young ladies, looking terrified.

The hall quieted down as Gendry had entered the room, two men following him carrying objects covered in clothe, one of them was distinctively a box. The man who carried the box approached Tyrion and Davos, whispering something to them. They both stood up from their seats and followed the man to the foot of the High Table next to Gendry.

Up close, Jon noticed all of the soot and ash Gendry was covered in. He had been spending almost all of his time in the forge. Ever since Daenerys was able to get blood from Drogon, he had been set on making Valyrian Steel. "My King, my Queen," Gendry said, bowing his head, "After two days without sleep, and many hours in the hottest forge I've ever been in, I'd like to show you the result of my works." Gendry nodded to one of the men who unveiled his object, revealing it to be Rickon's Sword. "As to your request," he said to Jon, "I used the steel of the shattered blade as my material, and I've got to say, I've never made anything like it."

Jon stood up, looking to Rickon who was wide eyed. "The Valyrian sword of House Stark, Ice, was reforged into two swords by Tywin Lannister. I think it's time for a new sword to take its place." Jon nodded to Rickon who got up from his seat as quick as he could. The man who carried the sword held the hilt towards Rickon. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and freed the sword from its scabbard. The metal singed as the blade was revealed. The fuller contained the same rippled stars as Longclaw, but the sword itself was a slightly darker tint. "A new sword, deserves a new name!" Jon declared. "So what will the Lord of Winterfell call his blade?"

Rickon kept ogling the sword. He was finally able to hold it with one arm and swing it easily. Rickon looked at Jon smiling. "Snow! Ice can be melted, but nothing can stop the Snow of winter."

Jon liked it. It was simple like Ice, but had a certain tenacity to the name. Everyone raised their glasses up, cheering for the name. "SNOW!" Rickon took the scabbard and sheathed the sword, taking it with him as he sat back down at the table. Gendry stepped down from the foot of the High Table and Tyrion and Davos took his place. "Your Majesties," Davos said, "if you wouldn't mind." He gestured for Jon and Daenerys to join him and Tyrion in front of the table. They complied and stood up, Jon escorting Daenerys with him. Tyrion and Davos let them take their places where they stood as they faced everyone in the Great Hall. The other man who came with Gendry unveiled his box, revealing it to be a simple chest. Davos and Tyrion stood in front of it as it was opened, obstructing Jon and Daenerys's view of its contents. The heard the box close as the two advisors turned around, each of them holding a crown. The crown in Tyrion's hands was made of silver. It had a simple shape to it, but it was beautiful none the less. It had five rubies planted in the metal and the one in the center was the largest. It was polished smooth and behind it, the Targaryen dragon could be seen.

Tyrion stepped for ward to Daenerys, smiling at her and she stooped down to him. He held the crown above her head and spoke his words in a strong, proud voice. "I proclaim Daenerys of House Targaryen, first of her name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms." Tyrion placed the crown upon her head and she rose back up, majestic and proud.

Tyrion stepped back as Davos stepped forward to Jon. The Crown he had caught Jon off guard. He expected it be themed after Targaryen or Stark. Instead, the crown was made of steel and in the center of it was the sigil Rickon and Sansa made for him. He couldn't help but smirk when he saw it. The crown was raised above his head, and Davos spoke to all. "I proclaim Jon of House Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms." Davos placed the crown on Jon's heading, looking proud at him the whole time. He stepped back and let the Lords of the North behold their King and Queen. "Long may they reign!"

"Long may they reign!" Everyone repeated, raising their glasses up high. Jon took Daenerys's hand and they raised them in the air, accepting their victory.

As the feast continued on, Jon remained at the High Table, but Daenerys mingled with everyone. Tormund took notice to this and approached his friend. "You look bored for a man who just got married and made a king."

"I have a lot on my mind." Jon told him.

"And your woman isn't? For fuck's sake Jon, you southerners really are dull." He turned his gaze to Daenerys and then back to Jon. "If you don't go down to her now, I might just steal her from you." Jon wasn't sure if he was joking or not, but regardless, he got up from his seat and walked into the mass of people. "Remember crow," Tormund called out, "like baby seals!"

Jon looked back at Tormund, embarrassed. He turned his gaze back to Daenerys, flustered at the memory of Tormund humping at a bag making sounds like a dog. He stood behind his wife and placed his hand on her shoulder, gaining her attention. Without even having to say anything, she stood up and leaned next to his head.

"Let's retire for the night," she whispered. Danerys took Jon's hand and they both made their way to the exit of the Great Hall, hoping to avoid being noticed.

It proved to be futile as Arya called out to them. "Your majesties! Where are you two off to at this hour?" Jon had never heard her talk the way she was. He glanced over to her and saw she had a large mug rather than a cup.

"Have you been drinking?" Jon asked.

Arya laughed before he put the rim of her mug to her lips and began to gulp down its contents. She didn't stop until the whole thing was gone. When the mug emptied, she slammed it on the table and looked right at him. "Not very much." They gained some laughter from nearby onlookers and from Jon as well.

"Daenerys and I are retiring for the night."

"Have fun you two!" She refilled her mug to the brim and joined a Wilding drinking. It was at that moment that Jon vowed to never let Arya get drunk ever again.

They finally escaped the Great Hall and made their way to Jon's Chambers. When they opened the door, they were both surprised at the view. The hearth was lit and a larger bed replaced Jon's previous one. "When did?" Jon couldn't finish his sentence as he took in the sight. On his table were neatly made garments for Daenerys and a pitcher of Arbor Gold. On a separate smaller table were two black silk pillows, meant for the crowns when they weren't worn. "This had to have been Sansa's doing."

"It's wonderful." Daenerys said as she removed her crown and placed it on one of the pillows. Jon did the same and found Daenerys gazing into the fires of the hearth. The light of the fire dance in the silver of her hair. "I wish you wouldn't leave. I don't want to wait for you to come back." Before Jon could say anything to counter her, she placed her index finger on his lips. "But until then, you're all mine and no one else's." She removed her finger and undid her cloak, letting it fall to the floor.

"As my queen commands." Jon grabbed hold of her waist and pulled her to his body, trapping her with a kiss. Daenerys's hands grabbed the ends of Jon's tunic and began to pull it off of his chest while he began to work at the laces of her dress. "We should probably get to the bed."

"Yes, we should." Daenerys began to guide them to the bed and she pushed Jon onto it, falling on top of him. Jon just stared at her for moment, admiring everything about her. He was hers and she was his. He pulled her into another kiss right before he finished his fight with the laces.

 _'Like baby seals,'_  Jon mentally reminded himself.

* * *

Daenerys

The light of morning blinded Daenerys for a moment as her eyes focused as she began to wake up.  _'Damn,'_  she thought. Why couldn't the night last forever? The heat of the furs covering her was nothing compared to the heat of who lay next with her. Her arm was across Jon's chest and his was around her. She could feel the scars of the knives, still not able to fully believe what happened to him.

"Morning," he said. His voice was especially gruff in the mornings, sounding thicker with his Northern accent. "Did you sleep well?"

"Considering how long we were at it, I hardly slept at all," she jested. Her mood died down when she remembered that a night like not wouldn't happen for a long time after today. "When do you leave?"

"As soon as everyone's ready." Jon told her.

Daenerys turned her head and gazed at him. "Jon, please don't go."

"I have to Daenerys."

"No, you don't. You're just trying to be a hero. Heroes do stupid things."

"Care to name a few of these heroes?"

Daenerys was hesitant, realizing the corner she just backed herself into. "My first husband Drogo, a lover I had in Mereen named Daario, even Jorah, and now you. You all seem to try and outdo each other on who can do the stupidest, bravest thing."

"That's funny," Jon told her, "from the sounds of it, all the men you just were men who fell in love with you. From what I've learned, love makes you do stupid things."

Daenerys slapped Jon on his chest. "If you know it's stupid, then why are you doing it?"

Jon gave a long sigh before answering. "Because it's the only thing I can think of that will work. I can't explain why, but I just know that if I don't do this, another piece of me will disappear. It's like I have some burden on my shoulders, and this is the only way to free me of the weight."

It all sounded ridiculous. But Daenerys has only ever dealt with problems diplomatically. Whenever she had idea like Jon's Tyrion would somehow talk her out of it, but this time Tyrion was the one who talked Jon into it. "Damn you Jon, if everyone returns and you don't, I'll burn down the entire Wall until you do."

"I'll make sure that doesn't happen then."

* * *

Daenerys stood on the battlements as Jon and his party of Jorah, Brienne, Tormund, and Ser Davos rode out of Winterfell. As they continued on, Jon stopped and looked out to Daenerys. He waved his hand at her, smiling. She waved back to him and watched him ride with the others. She didn't stop watching him until they all disappeared from sight. She was joined by Samwell Tarly. "Don't worry, he'll be back." He assured her. "Jon always comes back."

"He'd better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Crowns-https://www.deviantart.com/multirandomness21/art/Night-Dragons-Crowns-748564679


	39. Arya II

Arya

After finally recovering after a three-day long headache, Arya was up and about, staying away from alcohol as much as she could. She had been upset at herself for missing Jon's departure and since Brienne left with him, she was stuck training with Podrick. Though with his skill, it was more like she was training him. She grew tired of everyone still treating her like a lady. But luckily for her, the Lannister Imp took notice and would invite her to the council meetings whenever they were held. Today however, she didn't even need the invitation since Podrick was nowhere to be found. She heard whispers about him possessing a magic appendage.

In the Great Hall, Arya joined Sansa and Rickon with Tyrion, Varys, Lord Royce, and Lord Reed. After many arguments in days past between Lord Royce and Tyrion, the strategies for the war with the Wrights could finally continue. Queen Daenerys had been keeping to herself with her translator Missandei ever since Jon had left. They all stood around a table in the center of the room with a map of Westeros spread out and many tokens representing the many forces of the realms were layed out in various regions. Arya stood at the southern side of the map while everyone else took to the west and east side.

"As it stands," Lord Royce said, "There is just over four thousand men stationed at the Wall. The majority of them are stationed at Eastwatch-by-the-sea and the Torches. Combined with the Knights of the Vale, the Wildlings, and the Northerners, our numbers are just over fifty thousand."

"That's about thirty thousand short of half of the Night Kings army." Rickon informed.

Sansa shook her head, doubting their chances. "We can't put our faith in the Dothraki and Unsullied armies alone. We need the guarantee of more men who can get here now." Sansa's gaze fell to the Riverlands. "Didn't our Uncle Edmure take control of the Twins?"

"He did, my lady," Varys informed. "with all of the Freys dead, their soldiers were in disarray and without hope of survival unless they submitted to the other lords of the Riverlands. However, even with the Riverlands under control, your Uncle has refused to meet with us and has declared neutrality in the conflict with Cersei."

"The cunt," Arya said, "he's always been an idiot when it comes to war."

"My lady, he does not do this by his free will. There about six thousand of the Lannister Forces assisting the Riverlanders in rebuilding the destruction of their realm. However, my little birds have sung songs to me about your uncle's wife being held captive and their son being one order away from death."

"How many men do the Riverlands have to offer?" Arya asked to Lord Royce.

"Just under five thousand, though many of them aren't yet soldiers."

"And if the threat against our cousin and aunt was gone, would he be able to give us his support?"

Lord Royce cleared his throat, as if trying to keep an open mind. "Possibly. If you could somehow prevent open conflict between the Lannister forces and the Riverland Forces."

That would be no problem for Arya. "Lord Varys," Arya asked, "do your little birds know who the Lannister men answer to in the Riverlands?"

"They follow the orders of a commander named Kamren Lefford, nephew to Lord Leo Lefford. He's the one who holds the dagger to your cousin's throat, waiting to cut it."

"Perfect." Arya said, content with the information.

"My lady I must warn you though, if the commander should be killed, his troops are ordered to sack the Riverlands and put any they can to the sword."

"Don't worry, no one will kill Commander Lefford." Arya contained a smirk she was tempted to wear, but it would have disappeared anyway because of the objections.

"You're not going to the Riverlands." Sansa ordered. "Your place is here until the wars are over."

Arya looked at Sansa, trying to remain calm. "My place is where I choose it to be, and I choose to be in the Riverlands to help our family."

"Forgive me my lady," Lord Royce interjected, "but you must understand our doubt. How on earth do you expect to go to the Riverlands and secure your uncle's loyalty without risking the lives of his wife and son?"

"Nobody will know I was even there to begin with. Just like nobody knows who killed the Freys."

There was a satisfying silence for a moment before Varys broke it. "I heard rumors of a girl who wore the face of Waler Frey the night the Freys were wiped out. When the Freys were done coughing their own blood, Walder's new wife found herself next to this girl."

All eyes fell on Arya, and she liked it. "The poor Lord of the Twins died days earlier. His throat was cut after eating a pie made from his sons." Arya looked back at Sansa again. "I'm going to the Riverlands, and I'm helping our family." Arya's words were absolute, and Sansa knew that there were no objections that could stop her.

"My lady," Lord Red said, "I can gather some of the crannogmen to assist you in your task."

"I won't need help, not in the Riverlands anyway."

"My lady?" Lord Reed inquired, looking confused with everyone else.

Arya walked over to the Stormlands and pointed out a crucial factor. "What's the situation in the Stormlands?"

"When Stannis Baratheon died," Varys said, "the lords of the Stormlands became into disarray with their liege lord gone. Most of their army was spent in the War of the Five Kings, but there are still at least four thousand able fighters who can be contributed."

"And what have they done as far as who to answer to?"

"Even though it's been nearly two years, the Storm Lords still haven't chosen a reigning house to govern over them."

"Then it's a good thing we have their rightful lord with us."

"My lady," Lord Royce said, "You cannot expect the boy to become a lord. He knows nothing about being one and he's a smith."

"Indeed, he is, but he is also the son of Robert Baratheon, the last heir to Storm's End, and we need all the help we can get."

"But he is practically a commoner, many would seize an opportunity to manipulate him than to teach him how to rule."

"I know, which is why he'll be taught by someone who he trusts."

"Who?"

"Ser Davos Seaworth." Tyrion said. "He was the Hand to Stannis Baratheon and when Gendry was to be sacrificed, Davos freed him instead. He trusted the smuggler enough to come with him to the North, I don't think he'll have doubts when he is mentored by him."

"You speak as if Ser Davos has already agreed to do it." Lord Royce reminded.

"He will, he has to if we are to gain more allies. And when he does, we may even win the war against Cersei without having to spill blood." Tyrion gestured to the map of Westeros. "Every one of the Kingdoms except the Crownlands and the Westerlands will have declared against Cersei. Even with the Golden Company, she'll have absolutely no chance. If she doesn't answer to our warnings, we can cut off every available resource to her and let the people of King's Landing revolt against her. She'll have no choice but to surrender."

"Yes… this could work." Lord Royce said as he studied the map.

"So, it's decided then," Tyrion declared. "Lady Arya Stark will ride south to the Riverlands to deal with the problems there, and when she's done… what will you do when your done?" Tyrion didn't look confused, only perplexed that he didn't get all of the facts before he spoke.

"I'll send a Raven before my uncle sends one. Hopefully Jon and the others will be back by then. When that happens, send an envoy of men with Gendry and Ser Davos. We'll head for the Stormlands afterwards."

"Excellent," Tyrion said. "Now there's only one thing that remains."

"What's that?" Sansa asked.

"Convincing Gendry to become a lord."

* * *

The fires of Gendry's forge where unlike any Arya had seen. The flames burned brighter and the heat felt hotter. She couldn't understand how he could stay in such a place for so long, even if it was in the outdoors. He was almost done finishing his first set four Valyrian blades. He only had to treat them with heat and then quench the steel in the dragon blood. While he waited, he was working on an exquisite steel half gauntlet. He was working on the fittings when she told him about Tyrion's proposal. When she finished, he only seemed to laugh at her.

"I'm being serious!" Arya exclaimed.

"I know you are," He told her, "that's why I'm laughing."

"Gendry, the Baratheons have been the leaders of the Stormlands for ever since Aegon the conqueror took the Seven Kingdoms."

"Well maybe it's time for someone else to rule them then. My father was a drunken fool, one of my uncles tried to kill me and the brother he killed was a flower."

"Flower?" Arya had never herd the term before.

"Renly liked men, didn't he?"

"From what I heard he bedded with Loras Tyrell."

"Then he's a flower. And what am I? A bastard smith. Such a great and mighty house I come from."

"You're being an arse about this."

"And I have the right to." He finished the fitting and began to polish the steel with a cloth. "Do you remember that talk we had in the cave before I was taken?"

"Yes, you said you were tired of serving others. And here you are, serving my brother by forging for him."

"It's Valyrian steel. I'm not passing up an opportunity like this. Besides, your brother said I could leave anytime I wanted."

"He did?" Arya had no idea why Jon would let him. They needed Gendry and yet he had an offer that suited him.

"Yeah, he did. He said he would contact a smith in Volantis to work with the steel if I didn't want to, but I told him that I would, on the condition he pay me for my services."

"So that's it then? You're no better than the Brotherhood."

He stopped polishing the armor and looked up at her, angry. "They sold me to a witch for gold. I'm doing it for something better."

"What, a castle made of Valyrian steel?"

"Not a castle, just a someplace to call home." Arya did not expect that. "I want to settle down somewhere. Start my own forge, have a family."

"You could do that as Lord of the Stormlands if you wanted to."

"But I don't want to. People think that they serve the lords who rule them when it's actually the other way around. The lords have to take care of their people, tend to their needs, answer to the other lords, it's all just a big circle."

"You'd have people to help you with that, a maester, a master at arms, advisors," she paused before continuing, "a wife."

Gendry just shook his head before resuming his work. "You don't understand. You're a highborn who grew up in a castle while I grew up in the streets. Most people I knew dreamed about being knights, living in castles, getting rich. I just wanted something simple and I still do."

Arya felt near defeated, but she wouldn't give up easily. Maybe the Imp could convince him if she couldn't. "At least consider it until Jon gets back."

Gendry didn't answer, instead he set the gauntlet down and checked on the blades. "They're ready for the quench." He grabbed a pair of tongs and grabbed hold of the tang of one of the blades. "You'll want to move," he said as he nodded his head at the tank that contained the dragon blood. Arya moved out of the way as Gendry lifted the blade out of the furnace and over to the blood. The instant the white-hot metal touched the blood, it burst into flames as it sunk deeper. After a moment, Gendry pulled the blade out and the color changed to a dark tint. But as the steam danced on the metal, Gendry looked concerned. The was a sudden noise coming form the blade that sounded like a loud crack.

"What happened?" Arya asked, growing curious.

"I'm not sure. This didn't happen the first time. But I have a feeling." Gendry picked up a near by hammer as he lay the tip of the blade on the face of his anvil. Still holding the tang, he raised the hammer and swung down hard on the steel. When the hammer struck the metal, the blade shattered like glass.

Arya jumped back, startled by the shattering steel. "Why did it do that?"

"I'm not sure. I forged it just like I did your brother's." Gendry looked back at the furnace and grabbed hold of another blade. He repeating the quenching process, but he the blade was removed, it made the same noise and was just as brittle as the first one. "What in seven hells?"

"Maybe it's the blood," Arya suggested. "Maybe it can only do one sword at a time."

Gendry still looked puzzled. "Maybe. I only did what that Night's Watch fellow told me he learned about it. I'll try emptying out the used blood of the tank and refilling it with some unused blood."

As Gendry set down his tools, he noticed Arya wasn't saying anything to him which looked like it bothered him. He looked up at her, waiting for something. "I have to go now Gendry," she finally told him.

"You're making it sound as if you're leaving Winterfell right now."

"Not now, tonight." She said, making Gendry frown. "Time isn't something we have much of, and I'll need every second I can get."

Gendry just scoffed at her. "Then why are you wasting your time with me? Go enjoy your moments with your family while I work here, alone with the other smiths."

She grew agitated with him again, just as she did in the cave the Brotherhood kept them in. "You could be my family too." She reminded as walked away from him after that, leaving him to his steel.

* * *

Arya was eating her supper with Sansa and her brothers in the Great Hall with everyone else. Gendry decided to sit in a corner of the room, obviously upset at her and at his failed attempts in the forge. He changed the blood, but the effect was the same. In the end, he let the dragon fire that lit his forge die out and consulted with Sam the rest of the day. Word got out and people began to doubt his skill as a blacksmith.

At the High Table, Arya dipped her spoon into her rabbit stew, still steaming from the freshness. As she blew on her spoonful, cooling it off, Sansa seemed now was the time to talk. "Arya, I implore you to reconsider?"

"Implore? If you're too much of a lady to say 'beg,' then don't 'implore' at all." She said to her sister as she ate her soup.

"Arya!" Sansa almost, slammed her fist on the table, but stop and recollected herself. "Why are you being so stubborn?"

"Because I'm sick of diplomacy and debating. I need a good a fight." Arya continued eating her soup but Sansa just kept staring at her, not believing she was being serious. Sansa stood up from her seat and left the table, confusing Arya. "What'd I say?" Sansa ignored her and left the Great Hall.

"Are you as empty as Bran is?" Rickon asked, his mouth full of bread he was holding.

"What do you mean?"

Rickon dropped his bread on his plate and swallowed his food. "Before you returned to Winterfell, everyone here thought you were either dead or missing. You can imagine the concern we have if that were to happen again."

"I can take care of myself. I'm not a lady of the court, I'm a fighter."

"You're still our sister you idiot! Do you think we're only allowed to worry about everyone else but you?" Rickon looked frustrated, clenching his fists on the table. "Go apologize to her."

Arya scoffed at him. "You can't be serious."

"Get out of your seat and go apologize to her. If you don't I won't mourn you if you die."

Arya couldn't help but laugh at him. "That's a lie and you know." The next thing she knew, Rickon had jumped out of his seat and tackled her to the ground. His attempt to wrestle at her was pointless even though he was bigger than her. She maneuvered herself on top of him and pressed his face to the floor, pinning him down. After a few moments to calm down, Arya let go of Rickon and stood up let Rickon get off the ground. He refused to look at her as he started to cry. She left him to weep made her way out of the Great Hall, ignoring the stares that followed her.

She found herself outside in the courtyard, enjoying the time alone. She walked passed Gendry's forge and saw a pile of shattered steel on a table. All of it was the attempted Valyrian steel, broken like glass. She approached it and gently shifted through the pieces, looking for any that had the rippled pattern. In the pile, she found a piece that was a shape that interested her. She held it firmly in her hand as left the forge.

As she made her way back inside, she could hear someone sobbing on the battlements. She looked at the source and saw Sansa. Arya kept silent as she walked up beside her sister. Sansa finally noticed and wiped her tears away. She stared out to the fields of Winterfell, not saying anything to Arya.

"I don't want you to worry about me," Arya spoke softly, "but I do want you to hope I come back."

"You're my only sister, it's going to be impossible for me not to worry." Sansa's voice croaked, still not recovered from her sadness. She turned her head to Arya, looking afraid.

Arya just gave her a comforting smile. "In winter we must protect ourselves, look after one another." Those words were spoken to her when she thought she absolutely hated Sansa. Now she spoke them to her knowing she felt the complete opposite now.

Sansa broke through her fear and showed some joy with a smile. "Father," she stated. "When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives." Sansa's smile faded at the memory of their father.

"I miss him." Arya said, starting to feel sorrowful too.

"Me too." The was a small silence between them as they just gazed out to the North. "I can't handle another goodbye."

"Then don't say it, otherwise we might not see each other again." Arya revealed the piece of steel she picked out from the pile, showing it to Sansa. "When I get back, this will be something beautiful to remind you of a promise."

"What promise?"

"I will always come home." Sansa couldn't help but hug her. When they first reunited, Arya didn't have that much feelings towards Sansa, but now she gave her a real hug.

An hour passed and Arya was already on the hills bordering Winterfell. She had all she needed. Her faces, Needle, the dagger, food. The only thing she was missing was some company. She stopped her horse for a moment and looked back to the castle, wondering if Sansa was still on the battlements, watching. "Goodbye Sansa."


	40. Jaime I

Jaime

Whenever he wasn't in the company of his sister or the other commanders, Jaime was constantly getting beaten by Bronn in their sparring with one dirty tactic or another. He was kneeling on the ground in their training yard, clenching at his check that was struck multiple times by his own golden hand. He looked up at Bronn, who as always, looked amused at his 'great victory.' "You seem especially happy today." He grunted as he stood up, recovering from his injury.

"S'not every day you get to beat a Lannister with a hand made out of gold. Oh, wait a minute, yes, it is." Bronn laughed his famous chuckle as he tossed Jaime's sparring sword back to him. Bronn twirled his in his hand before taking his stance, ready for another match.

Jaime stretched his shoulders around for a moment before taking his own stance, waiting for Bronn to make the first move. Jaime knew this would end up like every other match had with Bronn standing over him while he would be defeated by his own hand. Bronn finally took the first swing, aiming low for Jaime's left leg. The swing was purposefully slow, but still at a speed that was challenging for Jaime. He parried the strike and took the offensive, aiming for Bronn's upper body.

Bronn appeared to be allowing Jaime to be the attacker, easily parrying any strike he swung. Jaime decided to use this opportunity to play by Bronn's rules. In almost every duel, Jaime had kept his right hand tucked closed to his body to keep it out of the way, but the moment Bronn left an opening to his right shoulder, Jaime swung his sword up. But when Bronn caught the caught with his own, Jaime swung his golden hand in between Bronn's legs, earning a grunt out of him when he struck. Bronn was caught off guard before Jaime backhanded him in the face. For the first time, Jaime defeated Bronn in a duel. He couldn't help but feel some pride in this moment. "You're learning," Bronn said before he swept his leg behind Jaime's feet, causing him to fall on his back. Before he could get up, Bronn was over him with his dagger at Jaime's chest. "But you're still just a fancy lad in a duel." He pulled his dagger away and offered his hand to Jaime. He accepted to help, but as he was being pulled up, Bronn brought his other hand to Jaime's face, punching back to the ground. Jaime grunted as he ay on the stone tiles. "My point proven exactly."

All of the sudden, the sound of clapping could be heard from the steps that led to the private training court. Jaime and Bronn both glanced to the source and saw the leader of the Golden Company, Harry Strickland. He was a man in his mid-thirties with long, brown, braided hair. His short beard was a lighter and was starting to grey. His build was very good for a sellsword for his age and occupation. He wasn't dressed in his armor though. Instead he wore a navy blue long coat that had no sleeves, exposing his arms that only wore leather bracers. At the collar of the coat was a pin of three golden skulls, all connected by a golden sword. At his hip were two swords. His main sword was a falchion, the hilt simple, but gold as his company. The other sword was actually a short sword, sheathed in a leather scabbard. The hilt was not beautiful like Harry's falchion. All it had for a handle was fabric, wrapped around the tang.

When was down clapping, he walked up to Jaime and offered his hand to him. This time however, Jaime refused it, getting on his feet by himself. "Captain Strickland." He addressed.

"Harry, my lord. The only ones who call me captain are my men." His voice was deep and course. One could mistake him to have a Northern accent. Harry brought his hands behind his back, assuming a gallant pose. "I heard talk that you're planning on a truce with the Targaryen Queen and the King in the North."

Such information wasn't private, so of course he would've found out. "It's a possibility. My brother claims there's an even bigger problem coming from beyond the Wall."

"Ah yes, I've heard about Wildlings before. didn't think they could pose much of a threat."

"As much as I wish it was Wildlings, its not since most they're all south of the Wall."

This puzzled Harry. "I thought the Wall was meant to keep them out."

"It was, but then the Night's Watch kept claiming that an Army of the Dead was coming." Jaime spoke with all the doubt he could. But there was a small part of him that couldn't help but be curious to know whether or not it was true. "Tyrion said he'll have proof soon enough. Until then, we're doing what we can to sure up our defenses."

"It would seem so, but with the odds we're at, I'm surprised that your sister hasn't surrendered."

"She's not one to give up easily."

"I noticed, though I must warn you, I hope the battle comes soon. Our elephants are meant for the heat of Essos. I don't think they'll fair well in the snow."

"Then it's a good thing they're in Dorne. The snows that reach there are only light flurries and melt quickly." Wanting to change the subject, Jaime found the only thing about Harry that caught his attention. "Interesting choice of weapon, though with what you're getting paid, I'm surprised you don't get a proper hilt made for your sword." Jaime looked down at Harry's short sword, earning a grin from him.

"I could, but I never use it anyway." Harry drew the sword out of the leather scabbard and offered it to Jaime.

As he took it in his hand, he was able to get a closer look at it. The width of the blade was like a bastard sword and the length was half of the same. It wasn't until the reflection of the sun left the steel did he notice an important detail about it. "Valyrian steel?"

Harry nodded to him, confirming his guess. "That there is all that remains of the Targaryen sword Blackfyre."

"I thought the sword was lost after the First Blackfyre Rebellion."

"No, just taken away to Essos by Aegor Bittersteel. The sword's been passed down to each leader of the Golden Company ever since then."

"What happened to the rest of the sword?" Bronn asked. "Seems like a complete waste to just use only half of what it was."

"My predecessor, Myles Blackheart Toyne, had an encounter with Ser Arthur Dayne. He was outskilled of course, but Myles was able to cut through one of Dayne's swords like bread with Blackfyre. Then finally, Dayne's final strike with his sword Dawn, cut right through Blackfyre as it had just done. Myles surrendered and was shown mercy by the young Kingsguard. Ever since then, he never returned to Westeros. As for the half with the hilt, even I don't know the answer to that mystery."

Jaime looked at the blade again before remembering what Harry said about it. "Why don't you use it?"

"It's something I do. Figure I'll get a song sung about it someday."

Bronn snorted at his statement. "What a wonderful song it will be. A Mercenary captain who never used Valyrian steel. Title could use some work."

"I never use it because my enemies always do. Before a battle, I offer Blackfyre to them. If they refuse to take it, they accept surrender, and all is well."

"And if they take it?" Bronn asked.

"Then I'll see them on the battlefield and take back what's mine from their cold dead fingers."

Jaime's brow arched, slightly impressed by the captain, but only slighty. He held the sword back to Harry, finished with his inspection. "You say Arthur Dayne did this with the sword Dawn?"

"I'd imagine a knight like you would know the story about that sword." Harry said as he took Blackfyre back and sheathed it.

"I do. It was forged from the metal found in a fallen star where Starfall was raised."

Harry grinned at Jaime's knowledge, tilting his eye's up to the sky. "Valyrian steel was like a gift from the dragons. Whatever metal made that sword was a gift from the gods." He bowed his head to both Jaime and Bronn. "Good day, my lords." Harry walked away, back up the stairs to the city.

Bronn walked up next to Jaime, impressed. "First sellsword I've met with a sense of honor."

"They seem to be scarcer than men like Ned Stark."

Cersei's handmaiden Bernadette passed Harry down the steps, approaching Jaime and Bronn. "Lord Jaime, Queen Cersei demands your presence in the Small Council." Jaime nodded to her and he and Bronn left the training court, done for the day.

* * *

Instead of at a table, the Small Council resided at the large map of Westeros Cersei had painted on the floor in the Red Keep. Cersei stood next to Gregor Clegane, his presence more darkening than when he was in the Kingsguard gold and white, over by the Crownlands. Qyburn stood across from them over the Westerlands. When Jaime and Bronn entered, they were at the shores of Dorne, Harry Strickland close behind them. "Ser Bronn," Cersei said, "thank for escorting Ser Jaime, but your presence will not be required for the rest of the day."

"Just as good, your grace." Bronn told them. "I have my own business to attend to anyway. There's a beautiful woman in a brothel calling my name." No one gained any amusement from him, but he didn't care as he left Jaime to the others.

Cersei walked over to the North. Looking down at Winterfell. "We have problem," she addressed, "we've just received word that the bastard of Winterfell has married the Dragon whore." Cersei was never short of insult when it came to her enemies. "With the North under her control, it won't be long until we're surrounded from the North and the south."

"There's also the Iron Fleet," Jaime reminded. "Now that Theon Greyjoy's taken command, Euron has only just over a hundred under his command. Combined with our own ships, we don't even have two hundred."

"Yes, I know!" Cersei exclaimed. "The fool was so busy trying to look like a god to his men, he forgot that he's only a rat." She turned her gaze to the southern kingdoms. "What news of Dorne, the Stormlands, and the Reach have we received?"

Qyburn was the one with the answers. "There are eight thousand Dornish soldiers, but the lords will not act as long as we have Elliara captured. The Stormlands are seeking a new liege lord before they give us any attention. From what my little birds have sung, Selmy Tarth is gaining the largest support."

"And the Reach?"

"The Dothraki have taken residence in Highgarden, but the lands remain untouched and the people unharmed. With the Tyrells gone and Lord Randyll Tarly and his son dead, Lady Melessa Tarly has been chosen as the governing Lady of the Reach by the other lords. But with the Dothraki occupying their lands, the Reach is at a standstill." Cersei did not look pleased, but it didn't stop Qyburn from going on. "There is one more thing, your grace. There have been whispers in the North about a boy who claims he's the bastard of your late husband."

"That's not possible, they were all butchered on Joffrey's orders."

"I understand, your grace, but there was one who slipped away from the city from what I read from the reports regarding the matter. He was traveling with the Night's Watch and reported killed, however a detail sparked my curiosity." Cersei turned to face him, waiting for his explanation. "The reports listed a small description of all of Robert's bastard children and all of them had black hair, except for one."

"The one traveling with the Watch."

"They company was captured by your father's men and taken to Harrenhal. After he left, there was a report that some of the prisoners escaped. One of them was a working as a smith, and the information given on him before the search matched his description."

If Cersei had something to throw, she would have. "And now he's under the protection of Jon Snow?" They all had received word that Jon was discovered to be the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, but that didn't stop Cersei from denying it.

"He is, your grace. Working in the Winterfell forges, trying to recreate Valyrian steel."

This earned some snickering from everyone else except from Ser Gregor. Jaime didn't know much about forging, but he did know that no one has been able to create the steel since the Doom of Valyria. Widow's Wail was reworked from ice, but not made from raw material. "I suppose since they have dragons they think they can." He suggested."

"He already did, my lord Jaime." Qyburn informed, ceasing the derisive attitudes. "Although my spies inform me he was only able to make one sword. The rest of his attempts have been failures for reasons they do not know."

There was silence as everyone went through the details of the situation over again in their heads.

"It seems," Harry said, "things aren't looking to well from this side of the war. If they figure out what the problem is and fix it, not only will we be outnumbered, but we will be outmatched in equipment."

Jaime knew something like that would anger Cersei, but she remained calm about the whole thing. Her gaze turned to him. A smirk slowly raised on her face. "Captain Strickland, I can imagine that in all your years living in Essos, you must have managed to make some friends in the right places."

"I have, your grace. Are there any you have in mind?"

The smirk grew, looking vile even to Jaime. "Do you have any in Braavos?"

The day was growing old and Jaime felt he needed time to rest after all that was going on. He was in Cersei's solar, relaxing on a coach while she went over some documents delivered to her. The more he went over the odds of winning the war in his mind, the more the outcome became worse. No matter how much wine he drank, he couldn't get rid of his dread. Cersei took notice to this and got up from her desk. "Something troubling you?"

He knew she didn't even have to ask to know what was troubling him. "We not going to win this war. Even with the Golden Company, now that the North, the Iron Islands, and the Vale fights for Daenerys Targaryen, we are hopelessly outmatched. How long will it be until the other Kingdoms realize this and decide to be on the winning side?"

"So, you wish to surrender? Hand the throne over to the Targaryens and hope they at least give us quick deaths when they kill us?"

"With Tyrion as Daenerys's hand, he wouldn't let that happen."

"And what would our dear little brother do? Give us Casterly Rock? Live out our days in peace?" She shook her head as she made her way over to the wine pitcher. "That little monster has been set on destroying our family ever since he killed our mother. I'm amazed you've never seen that even after he killed father."

Jaime hated Tyrion for doing that, but he didn't believe Tyrion was out to destroy them. "We could leave Westeros, away from all danger and chaos."

"And give them the crown? I'd burn this city to the ground before doing that."

A shiver ran down Jaime's spine as he remembered similar words spoken by a previous King he served. He denied she meant it, but after what happened to the Sept of Baelor, it didn't sound as unbelievable as he thought. He shook the idea out of his head, "What about the armistice? If there really is an Army of the Dead coming, we might be able to negotiate a deal with Jon and Daenerys Targaryen."

Cersei only laughed at him. "Should I ask Qyburn to examine you? I'm afraid you might be going mad."

"They could destroy us if they wanted to, but they haven't. Why wouldn't they?"

"They care to much about peasants and common folk. As long as we keep our armies close to them, the dragonspawn and the bastard won't bring their beasts near us. If they move against us, they'll find themselves ruling over corpses." The more she seemed to speak, the more Jaime couldn't push away the feeling he had that Cersei was starting to act like Aerys Targaryen. Jaime got up and set his glass of wine on a table near him. "Where are you going?"

He needed to get away from all the talk of war and relax for a moment, something he was hoping to do with Cersei. "To find Bronn. I need something stronger to drink."

* * *

The ales of the taverns in Flea Bottom were awful. Jaime had drunk horse piss that tasted better, and it wasn't a lie. The noise was too loud and the smell was terrible. But at least it took his mind off of the war. Bronn had already downed two mugs of ale and was now working on his third as Jaime explained the situation. Bronn gulped down his mouthful and wiped his mouth clean of the drink. "Your sister's right." He said. "as long as we keep our men close to good citizens of the realm, they won't rain dragonfire upon us. Now all she has to do is think of a way to have their armies not attack us either."

Even Jaime couldn't think of a way. His father was the one who always had a clever plan. Though Jaime doubted he would have one even now. Ever since they learned about Daenerys's dragons hatching in Essos, he always doubted their potential. And now here he was, commander of the Lannister Army, with sellswords and a broken fleet, up against five dragons and too many men. "What would you do?"

Bronn just shrugged, "I wouldn't say. Your sister might do it if her spies heard me say and told her."

Jaime sighed realizing he was heading straight for what he was trying to avoid by being here in the first place. "Did you enjoy your woman?" He inquired, not able to think of what else to talk about.

Bronn snorted at him, amazed. "I just spent my time with a whore and you're asking if I enjoyed it?"

"You'll have to while you can before you're married to a highborn lady." Jaime reminded.

"Do you think being married ever stopped anyone from fucking whores? Didn't stop Robert Baratheon, that's for sure. Didn't stop your sister from fucking your cousin either while you were Robb Stark's prisoner."

Jaime choked on his ale, coughing up what he just drank. It took him a moment to recover before he was able to talk. "What did you say?"

"She never told you?" Bronn looked curious and cautious at the same time. "Your cousin Lancel kept her bed warm while you were away until he joined the Faith. His confession's what got her thrown into the Sept dungeons."

This was shocking and angering at the same time. He remembered when he returned to King's Landing and she denied him her company, telling him he took too long, but she never told him she slept with Lancel.

"That's it," Bronn said before finishing his final mug, "you're coming with me." He stood up and grabbed Jaime by his coat, pulling him up from his seat.

"Where're we going?" Jaime asked as he was led by Bronn.

"To someplace no little birds will be."

As they walked through the streets of King's Landing, Jaime began to see the condition of the people. Many of them looked starving and others had hardly any proper clothes to keep warm for the winter. When Margery was queen, he never saw such a sight.

They finally came to a stop at the broken-down doors of Littlefinger's brothel. Jaime was surprised Bronn chose this place, but not surprised that it was going to be a brothel. AS they stepped inside, the rooms that were once elegant and inviting were now empty and cold. Markings of the Faith Militant were still present and only rats occupied the building.

Once they were inside Littlefinger's office, Bronn sat down at a windowsill. "Now, it's time for you to hear the cold truth if your ever goin to live through all of this." He waited for Jaime to give him his full attention. "With Cersei as the queen, we're all gonna die. Even if by some miracle she defeats the Targaryens and the Northmen, we won't last the winter. She's spent all the Tyrell gold on the Golden company, are resources are nearly depleted now that the Reach can't send food. Every ship is being used as a military vessel instead of fishing like they should be. To sum it all up, you have nothin."

"We have nothing," Jaime corrected. "You're a part of this too."

"Aye, I was. But that was when I was made a lord and promised a castle and a highborn wife, which you have taken both from me and refuse to give. Your brother on the other hand has a castle waiting for me and a wife. He offered to make me a liege lord, but it's too much work so I'm settling for just the castle. Though I will admit, I never did enjoy the cold very much, but it's better than being here without what I'm owed-"

"Is there a point you'd like to make?" Jaime grew irritated at all of this.

Bronn sighed as if it wasn't already made. "I'm telling you this, in hopes that you understand the situation. I like you, I do. But I'm being the smart person and looking at my options before the it's too late. And soon enough, the lords who've pledged themselves to your sister will be doing the same thing. She can't protect, she can't feed them, she doesn't care about them, so why should they call her their queen? Because she's sitting on the Iron Throne?"

Jaime hated what he was saying, but he knew it was the truth. "What are you asking of me?"

"Nothin at all, but I'm advising you to try and get your sister to see the same thing."

"What do you think I was doing before I found you?"

Bronn was silenced, looking the ground and shaking his head. Jaime decided to leave but before he was out the door, Bronn asked him a question. "Would you do it again?"

Jaime looked back at him, confused. "Do what?"

"If the Mad King had returned and ordered the city to be burned with Wildifre, would you kill him again?"

Jaime looked at Bronn as if the answer was obvious. "Of course."

"Well then, go put your sword in her rather than your cock and we're saved." Jaime reached for the hilt of his sword which he wasn't carrying. He was completely unarmed, but Bronn wasn't. "Before you get angry, just ask yourself one thing. Why did Tommen kill himself?"

Jaime turned back around, leaving the office and the brothel. When he reached the streets, he couldn't help but imagine seeing Cersei on the Iron Throne, screaming like the Mad King.  _'BURN THEM ALL!'_  He fell back on a wall, sliding down it until he was sitting. He stared off into the streets ahead of him, wondering if he really would if he faced that decision.


	41. Jon XV

Jon

After Two and a half weeks of nothing but riding on horseback, Eastwatch-by-the-Sea finally came into view. It was Jon's first time ever seeing the castle and he had to admit he was impressed. Castle Black used a lift to get to the top of the Wall, but here, one had to climb what seemed like countless steps. Jon and his company could see dozens of men walking up and down the steps, more than Jon's ever seen in a single castle. In the Harbor were ten ships, all wearing black sails. As his riding party drew closer to the gates, a horn blasted signaling them to open.

As they entered Eastwatch, a party of brothers of the Watch Greeted them. At the front was an elderly looking man just aging after sixty. His face wore a dark grey beard from ear to ear, arching over his chin above his upper lip. Next to his left eye on his temple was a long scar reaching down to his cheekbone. His head was completely bald and riddled with brown spots. "Commander Pyke." Jon addressed as he dismounted.

"Lord Snow," he said.

"He's not a Snow," Davos said, "he's Jon Targaryen, the King of Westeros."

"Forgive me, your grace." Commander Pyke bowed his head to Jon, obviously in no mood for flattery.

"It's alright," Jon said, trying not to be demanding or boastful. "I trust you received my raven."

"I did, and all I'm going to say is you're not taking any of my men, even if your wife's the one who got them here."

"I understand. We'll only be seeking the help of the Free Folk."

"You should know," Commander Pyke said, sounding nervous, "we haven't had any Wildlings come through for two moons. They used to come at least once a week."

"Makes sense. The Night King's nearly done gathering his army."

"Well fuck, I can't understand why anyone else would want to go north then."

"Anyone else? Are there others trying to go north?"

"Follow me." Commander Pyke ordered as the horses were taken by some Essosi stewards to the stables. Jon and his company were led through the castle into the cold cells of Eastwatch. "Caught some men camping about a mile away from here a month ago. One of them knocked out ten rangers before a giant came and seized him."

"What was a giant doing here?" Brienne asked.

"Apparently the only Wildling in the world who speaks whatever the fuck giant's speak was here and they needed a translator."

"They speak the Old Tongue." Tormund informed as they all stood in front of a cell filled with four men. Two were sitting against the icy wall, huddled in the shadows. One of them was leaning against the cell gates while the fourth was lying down on a bench, resting.

Commander Pyke grabbed hold of an axe he kept in his belt across his chest. He banged against the cold steel, gaining the attention of the prisoners. "Wake up ya shits!"

The four men startled at the banging, looking over to them. The one sleeping was instantly recognized by Brienne. "Sandor Clegane, what in seven hells are you doing at the Wall?"

The Hound turned his head to her, rising up when he realized who she was. "Brienne of fucking Tarth, I could ask you the same question."

"Shut it!" Commander Pyke spat at the hound. He turned to Jon, gesturing to his prisoners. "They want to go beyond the Wall too."

"We don't want to go," one of them said, "we have too." The one who spoke stood up from his seat, revealing his face. Jon didn't recognize him. "Our lord told us that the Great War is coming. Our place, be it on the battlefield or beyond the Wall, is wherever the Lord guides-"

"Enough about your lord Dondarrion!" Commander Pyke ordered.

"Dondarrion?" Jon inquired, "Lord Beric Dondarrion of Blackhaven?"

"I renounced my claim to my titles years ago." Beric told Jon. "Ever since the Lord of Light brought me back from the depths of darkness, I've served him and the common folk."

"Thoros." Ser Jorah said. The other man who sat next to where Beric was leaned closer to them, looking at who recognized him. "I hardly recognized you."

"Ser Jorah Mormont. They won't give me anything to drink down here. I haven't been feeling like myself." Thoros slouched back into his corner, huddling with what he could to keep warm.

Jon gazed over to the other man who was leaning against the cage before they entered. He had short brown hair and a short brown beard to match. "And you are?"

"Anguy." There was a pause of silence, Jon hoping someone would break it with knowledge of who he was. Anguy just shrugged, not caring if any did. "I was a soldier for House Dondarrion before I joined the Brotherhood if that helps."

"Before I was married I was Jon Snow, the Bastard of Winterfell."

"Ned Stark's son?"

Jon sighed, not wanting to explain the whole story over again right now. "I was."

"Here we all are," Beric said, "at the edge of the world, at the same moment, heading in the same direction for the same reason."

"Our reasons aren't your reasons." Davos said, being firm in his voice.

"It doesn't matter what we think our reasons are. There's a greater purpose at work, and we serve it together. Whether we know it or not. We may take the steps, but the Lord of Light is-"

"For fuck's sake!" The Hound exclaimed. "Will you shut your hole? Are we coming with you or not?"

Jon wasn't sure at first, but he wasn't about to argue when there were good fighters willing to go with them.

"Don't you want to know what we're doing?" Jorah asked.

"Is it worse than sitting in a freezing cell, waiting to die?" Thoros asked.

"He's right," Jon said, "we're all on the same side."

Brienne looked over to Jon, being cautious of the Hound. "How can you be sure that we are?"

"We're all breathing." Jon looked over to Commander Pyke who just doubtfully shook his head as he unlocked the gates to the cell. As the cage opened, the men inside quickly walked out, eager to get someplace warmer. "We have some gear one our horses. What we can't spare we'll barrow form the Watch."

Commander Pyke just shrugged at him. "As long as you don't take my men."

They were given the Common Room to themselves to prepare. Everyone stripped themselves of any armor they had and replaced it with clothes that would protect them from the cold. As they all dressed in heavy furs and joined by six of the Free Folk, Davos brought in two rolled up clothes and set them on the table. He unrolled them, revealing many dragonglass weapons, mostly daggers and hatchets. Davos looked to the brotherhood remnants, "These are made of dragonglass, they can kill the White the Walkers-"

"And stop their soldiers." Anguy interrupted. Davos looked at him, surprised he knew. "When you're in a cell for a month, you hear things." He looked through the selection and took two of the dragonglass daggers and placed them at his hips. He looked at the weapons again, seeming troubled. "You got any arrow heads?"

Jon still had the pouch of them Abroko gave him on Dragonstone in his satchel. He pulled out the pouch and handed it to Anguy. "There's at least a dozen in here."

Anguy took the pouch from him and emptied some of it into his hand. He inspected them carefully, looking pleased. "Perfect, I just need some arrows and a bow and I'll be set." He placed the arrowheads back into the pouch as everyone else took a dragonglass weapons. The Free Folk brought dragonglass spears and a halberd for Tormund along with a Thenn axe.

"Lord Jon," Beric said, "if I remember, you said you were a Snow before you were married. What do we call you now?"

"King," Brienne told him. The other brotherhood members looked up at him. "You stand in the presence of Jon of House Targaryen."

"Targaryen? How'd you manage that?"

"Save it for the walk." Jon said as he replaced his steel dagger with the dragonglass dagger Abroko gave him.

Finally prepared, the hunting party waited in the tunnel for the passage north to the gate to beyond the Wall began to rise, a burst of air colder than what they already felt struck at them like a wave of water. Snow stung passed their faces as the gate reached its height. The winds of the true north rushed through the tunnel, reminding Jon of the harshness he would be heading into. He looked back at those joining him, seeing if there were sure about this. He saw distress among them, but also determination. He took the first step and everyone followed after him, into the blizzard.

"So, King Targaryen," Thoros said loudly to break through the howling wind, "How'd you get to be a Targaryen?"

* * *

The walk was cold, but bearable. After a few hours, the snow died down and the skies cleared, giving a warm comfort to everyone's faces. Jon kept to the middle of the group, letting the Free Folk lead, but also so he could enjoy the conversations he heard around him after explaining everything that happened starting when Maester Aemon died and the dragons hatched.

Beric took this opportunity to have talk with Jon as the trudged through an icy landscape. "You look just like him." Beric said to Jon.

"Who?"

"Rhaegar. I only ever saw him once when I was a boy at Harrenhal, but I'll never forget his face. Or those eyes, violet as amethysts. Though I must say, the black hair suits you more than silver would. But I must say, you are the spitting image of a Stark, like Ned was."

"You knew him?"

"Of course, I did. When he was Hand, he sent me off hunting for the Mountain. That's how I achieved my first death. Your Wildling friend told me the Red Woman brought you back. Thoros brought me back after the battle, and five times after that. Now you and I serve the same Lord."

"I serve the North and all of Westeros."

"The North didn't raise you from the dead or gift you with dragons, and neither did Westeros."

"You're right, Melissandre raised me from the dead and my Uncle Aemon Targaryen gifted me with dragons. I never saw the Lord of Light when I died. I never spoke with him, never heard him. I don't know what he wants from me."

"He wants you alive."

"Why?"

Beric simply smiled at him. "I don't know."

"That's all anyone can tell me, 'I don't know.' What's the point in serving a god if none of us knows what he wants?"

"I think about that all the time. I don't think it's our purpose to understand, except for one thing. We're soldiers. We have to know what we're fighting for. I'm not fighting so that you or someone else can sit on a throne made of swords." Beric stopped and pulled Jon aside, out of the way of the hunting party.

"So what are you fighting for?"

"Life. Death is the enemy. The first enemy, and the last."

"But we all die."

"The enemy always wins," Beric assured him, "and we still need to fight him. That's all I know. You and I won't find much joy while we here, but we can keep others alive. We can defend those who can't defend themselves."

That sounded like something Ned would say. You do what is right, because its right and that's all the reason you need. That was what the Night's Watch was when it was founded by men of honor. "I am the shield that guards the realms of men."

"Maybe we don't need to understand any more than that. Maybe that's enough."

"Aye, maybe that's enough." Jon agreed.

They rejoined the group and kept pace with them as they approached a range of mountains. As they pressed on through the rocky slopes, Jon took interest in the conversations involving the Hound. Brienne seemed to keep her distance, but now she finally decided to get up close to him. Jon kept his pace behind them, eavesdropping. "Thought you died in your fall." Brienne said.

"I wish I did, then I wouldn't have to stuck you lot, freezing my cock off looking for walking dead men." The Hound told her.

"You haven't changed a bit," Brienne smiled, "thought Arya would've done that since she spared your life."

The Hound turned his head to her, finally showing an expression other than aggravated. "You found her?"

"She came home to Winterfell shortly after her brother Brandon."

"Who's protecting her if you're here?"

"She would've been the one in place if I didn't go. Beside the only one who needs protecting is whoever gets in her way."

The Hound smiled for the first time Jon ever had ever seen him. "It won't be me."

"You should come back with us to Winterfell. I feel she's getting tired of training with me. Neither of us can best the other."

"If I had the strength I had years ago… I'm not much of a fighter anymore. Just slightly better than most."

"You're too hard on yourself." Anguy said, walking up next to Brienne and the Hound while stringing a dragonglass arrow. "We all lose our strength sometimes, but we can get it back if we work for it."

"I've never had to work for anything, I've only killed because that's what I was good at."

"And here you are, walking with a band of fools, going to kill that which is already dead."

"Would you fuck off already?" Anguy shrugged as he fell to the back of the hunting party. The Hound's gaze fell to Jo0n, noticing he was listening. "You too, I don't care if you're the King of Westeros or the fucking world, piss off." Jon tried to keep his distance after that, but he managed to listen in on an argument with Tormund. All Jon could hear was talk about how gingers were beautiful and they were kissed by fire. Jon remembered when Tormund told that to Sansa when they were camping before the Battle of the Bastards.

The hunting party never stopped moving. As they passed a valley next to an icy river, Jon could feel the moral dropping and the mood dying. Anguy felt this as well and decided to begin singing the Bear and the Maiden Fair. Beric and Thoros Joined him while everyone else kept to themselves, either because they didn't want to sing, or they didn't know the words. Jon personally never heard the song, but feeling bored hummed with the tune.

By the third time they sung it, Brienne became irritated for reasons Jon did not know. "Don't you know any other tunes?" She called out to them from the back of the party.

"Fraid not, milady." Anguy said

"I know one," Jorah said, "compliments to our new King." Jon turned his head to Jorah, hoping he wasn't going to sing what he thought he was.

"How'd you learn it?" Jon asked.

"I've been at Winterfell for over two weeks and its thing only song I've heard people sing there." Jorah told him.

"Now that's a song I know." Brienne said, smiling.

She and Jorah both began to sing the song of the Night Dragons, Jon keeping his eyes to the ground, buried in embarrassment. By the second time they sung it, everyone except for the Hound knew the words and joined them, Jon as well. Though after singing over and over, they all grew bored of it.

"Can't you think of another verse?" Thoros asked.

"I didn't write it," Jon told him, "my dragons taught it to me. That's all I know and all they've sung."

"Maybe because they want you to keep it going." Thoros said as he took a quick drink of his rum.

* * *

They pressed on through the entire day and didn't stop as dusk approached. A new storm began to swallow the sky and even though the sun was gone, there was still light from the brightness of the snow. A light flurry began before the heavy flurry would consume them. As the hunting party reached the foot of a mountain they passed, the Hound stopped and looked out to the mountains in the distanced a pointed out to the largest peak. "That's what I saw in the fire, a mountain shaped like an arrowhead."

"Are you sure?" Thoros asked.

"We're getting close." Sandor assured.

Brienne walked next to the Hound, looking out to the mountain. "You mean to say we've been following a vision you saw in a fire?"

"You got a better idea?"

Brienne's eyes dropped to the ground, thinking of something better, yet she remained silence as she continued to the mountain with the others.

The storm of snow turned into a blizzard and the winds pushed against them, as if they were a force to keep others away from the evil they sought after. The Free Folk guide who led them through caught a lead ahead of them and continued to fight against the snow and the winds. Frost began to form from the sweat of their brows and the warmth of their furs had nearly disappeared. Tormund suddenly tapped Jon, pointed out to an object in the distance. "Look!" Everyone but the guide stopped and tried to make out the shape.

"A bear," Sandor said, "a big fucker. He's got a rider."

Barely visible, Jon could identify the shape of a snow bear and someone riding atop it. "It could be warg." Jon said.

The bear stopped and turned its head, revealing a deathly light.

"Do bears have blue eyes?" Brienne asked. The bear and the rider disappeared in a flash of white, only to reappear, but heading straight for them. The guide noticed this and immediately turned around, running back to the others. The bear disappeared in another flash of white as the guide kept running. Everyone drew their weapons and readied for their tangle with the beast, but as the guide was nearly there, the bear reappeared charging at him from his side. In an instant, the bear chomped at the guide, picking him up and carrying him away screaming, and once again disappearing.

Jon and the others ran over to chase after them, but all the found was a patch of snow stained blood and the guide's dragonglass spear. Everyone formed a circle, keeping watch for where the bear might strike again. The winds around them howled as the fear began to form as nothing continued to happen.

Behind Jon, a loud roar came out from the blizzard and the bear appeared as if from nowhere. It pushed forward one of the Free Folk, launching him into the snow. As he tried desperately to crawl away, the bear sank its teeth into his back. He screamed as the snap of his spine sounded through the screaming winds and then he lay motionless and lifeless. Jon charged forward at the bear, hoped a powerful strike from Longclaw would be able to kill it, but when the blade met the bear's skin, it hardly scrathed it. The muscle was decayed, but still tough. The bear swatted at Jon, sending him flying into the air, back to where he was. As he hit the ground, Sandor knelt down to him, pulling him up as Thoros and Beric ran their hands on the edges of their swords, igniting the blades in magical fire. They charged at the bear as it looked for its next victim.

The dead rider atop of it dismounted as the bear stood up and sliced the chest of a Free Folk clean open. When he fell to the ground, the bear sank its teeth in his back and did the same thing he did the first time.

Beric swung his sword down on the beast, igniting it instantly when the blade touched its hide. The rider was engaging Tormund with a sword the was broken in half. He was easily disarmed and the other Free folk surrounded it, trying to make the capture. The bear charged at them, shoving them aside and spread its fire to its rider.

One of the free folk carrying a spear tossed it aside and tried to tackle the wright into the snow to douse the flames. But as he brought it down to the ground, the wright's strength was greater and it freed an arm, instantly clawing at the face of it's attacker. Its fingers grabbed hold of the Free Folk's jaw and pulled it off before grabbing a dagger at it's belt and rapidly stabbing his neck. Before the Free Fold bled out, the wright it ceased moving.

The bear fended off the others as they attacked at it. Anguy shot a dragonglass arrow at hit, but ti became stuck in its hide. The bear swatted at Brienne, missing her, but able to get her to back away. It turned its gaze to Sandor who stood frozen from fear. The bear was nothing, but the fires scared him. As the bear charged at him, Thoros shoved him aside and blocked the bear's chomp with his sword. Thoros was pushed to the ground and his blade wound up trapped in the bear's jaw, clenching as hard as it could.

Tormund charged at the bear with his axe, landing a powerful blow to the bear's head, but it shoved him away as if it was nothing. Thoros' sword was ripped from his hands and the bear bit down into his body, breaking many ribs. Thoros cried out as he was slid side to side by the bear, attempting to tear him apart.

Jorah finally sank a dragonglass dagger deep into the bear's body, killing it for good. It collapses off of Thoros and and continued to burn. Anguy retired his arrow and dragged Thoros away with Beric. They rested him on a small lump of snow and lifted his robes, revealing the bloody damage the was done. His skin was misshaped and his muscle exposed, bleeding from the tears. Sandor stood near him, looking at the suffering Thoros took instead of him.

Jorah walked to Thoros, examining his condition with everyone else. "We have to get him back to Eastwatch."

Thoros shook his head. "No time," he grunted, "flask!" Beric padded through the red priest's robes until he found what Thoros wanted. He uncorked it and put the tips to his friend's mouth, letting him drink as much as he wanted. Jon knew he couldn't keep bleeding and so did he. When he was done, Thoros look at Beric as he pulled the flask away. "Go on," he said.

Beric held his flaming sword over Thoros' chest and brought the blade down onto the wounds, cauterizing them. Sandor turned away as Thoros moaned and ground his teeth while the sizzling sounded and the smell erupted. Jon recognized it from when he burned in Wildfire.

As Beric pulled his sword away, Thros calmed down. "You alright?" Beric asked.

"I just got bit by a dead bear." Thoros reminded.

"Aye, you did." Beric grin at him, knowing full well what happened, happened.

Thoros' brow arched high. "Funny old life." Beric sank his sword into the snow, dousing the flames of his sword as he and Anguy grabbed hold of Thoros and helped him onto his feet.

Jon was inspecting two of the dead Free Folk, discovering the direction the tracks came from, and the direction they would be heading.


	42. Arya III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very nervous about writing Arya's skills of both swordplay and being a faceless man so if I have failed your expectations, forgive me. 'bows in shame'

Arya

The Twins seemed to have a more peaceful setting now that all the Freys that meant a damn were dead. The Riverlands were just starting to receive a greater part of the Winter. When Arya left them, the lands were only covered in a thin layer of snow and frost. Now the lands resembled the North in the summer, thick snows, and cold waters. The water around columns of the Twin's bridge started freezing, forming a second bridge of ice. Had the Freys been alive, many might even choose to use it rather than pay a toll. The skies were clear, but the sun burned cold, giving no heat to those underneath its light.

Since all the Frey men were dead, save some baby boys who held the family name, the castle was occupied by the women, under the watch of Tully and Lannister soldiers. Edmure acted as the Lord and operated the dealings of the Riverlands from the castle. From what Arya had heard from the people in taverns she stopped at during her travels, her uncle was still practically a prisoner. As for why, she reasoned that it was to keep him far away from his wife and son, reminding him about his situation.

As she approached the Eastern Twin on her horse, she was stopped by two Lannister at the edge of an encampment made just outside the castle. It consisted of maybe a hundred men, but Arya wouldn't need to fight her way through.

"Halt!" One of them said. He was in full armor, hiding almost all detail to identify him. The only thing Arya could tell was that he was at least middle aged. The soldier with him was a man, barely twenty, carrying his helmet under his arm. "If you wish to cross, you'll have to pay a toll to the Lord of the Twins."

"I'm not here to cross the bridge, I'm here to bring a message for Lord Edmure Tully from the North." Arya pulled out a letter, sealed with wax stamped with the Stark Direwolf.

"If that's all, then give it here. We'll deliver it." The older soldier reached for the letter, but Arya pulled it out of his reach.

"I'm afraid my instructions are to deliver this directly to Lord Edmure."

"No one is allowed to see the Lord unless we allow it."

"Then it seems we have a problem. I need to follow my instructions, but I can't see the Lord."

Before the older soldier could spit out some useless argument to her, the younger one tried to handle things. "I know that being from the North, you probably have absolutely no trust in men with the Lannister colors. Regardless, we have our orders, but if you'd find it acceptable, I can ask our captain if he'd allow one of the Tully soldiers to deliver the message when he returns."

"He isn't here now?"

"He's gone for the next two days, but if you have the time to wait, there's a tavern we use sometimes that's not far from here you could stay at."

_'Perfect,'_ Arya thought.

The two soldiers looked at each other, the older one shrugging to the younger one. "That works for me," the older one said, obviously tired of lazy. He turned to head back to his post as the younger soldier bowed his head, smiling.

"That would relieve my worries quite a bit, I'll make sure to repay you somehow."

"There'll be no need for that. Safe travels little lady." He rejoined his companion as Arya started back down the road she came.

She took a path leading east about a mile down the road and followed it for nearly the same distance until she arrived at a small gathering of buildings. What was here used to be the makings of a village probably years ago, but there was much damage done and the only building that had the least structural damage was the tavern.

After tying the reigns of her horse to a post outside, Arya entered the building, amazed at the quality. Most of the taverns she visited tended to have a gross atmosphere, but this place felt warm and at home. Arya took a seat at a small table and order a pie and an ale. As her food was brought to her, she scanned the room for any Lannister soldiers. Her eyes caught the flash of a bright red cloak and the man it was attached to. He was sitting at a table hidden by a wooden beam. His helmet rested next to his food as his sword up against his chair. His back was turned to Arya which gave her the best opportunity to observe his actions. He was going over some documents while he ate, taking an occasional drink of his ale. It wasn't until a young woman brought him a replacement mug of ale did he seem to try and woo her, placing his hands on her thighs. She quickly escaped him, showing no interest in him.  _'Now I know how to get close.'_  Arya finished her meal and left some silver for the server. At her horse, Arya filed through a satchel and found the face of the girl who fed pies to Walder Frey.

* * *

The Lannister soldier was almost through writing his letter requesting for more supplies from King's Landing. He sat back in his chair, exhausted and unhappy. He'd been in the Riverlands for three years and hadn't been inside a woman the whole time. When he fought in the War of the Five Kings, all he had to do was flash the Lannister red and girls would submit to him, but now that they were ordered to keep the peace and the Tully forces were fierce and ever watchful.

His attention was redirected to a young women's dress that brushed his body as she walked him. He looked up and lusted after what he saw. The lady who wore the dress was the prettiest he'd seen in the Riverlands. She sat down at the table across from him, setting down a basket filled with kindling she carried. She only had an ale brought to her and she took notice of the eyes that watched her. She cracked a tiny smile as she took a drink of her ale.

The soldier got up from his seat, bringing his mug with him and approached her table. "I've come to this tavern every day for the past six months and I know everyone's face here except yours."

"I'm here to find work. The Westerlands are growing dangerous with those foreign savages in the Reach. All of our soldiers aren't there to keep us ladies safe anymore." Her voice was seductive and soothing to hear.

"Can't be much better here. Now that the Wildings are passed the Wall, it's only a matter of time before they come down here."

"Then it's a good thing that the Riverlands are filled with brave lions to protect us. What name does this lion have the pleasure of being?"

He smiled at her, enjoying the conversation. "Trysten Hills. What kind of work are you looking for?"

"The kind that can keep me warm through the winter and in my bed. The only problem is I can't find a single brothel anywhere."

Trysten's eyes widened with excitement. "You're a whore?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Whores will fuck anyone that flashes money at them."

"And you don't?"

She stood up and brought her head to his ear, whispering softly. "I don't fuck for money, I make men lust after me like they've never even touched a woman before relieving that desire, something I can assure you have never felt, not even in your dreams. But I can fix that if you'd like." Trysten's free hand moved on its own as his felt the warmth of her hip. His hand was suddenly slapped lightly as she leaned back from him, looking into his eyes. "When the first stars light the sky, come back and find me here." She smirked at him as she walked past him and out of the building with her kindling. He'd never been as hard as he was in his life. Trysten drank the rest of his ale and gathered his things, leaving for his camp.

As twilight darkened the sky and the stars appeared, Tyrsten returned to the tavern, but before he got to the entrance, he heard the lady's voice calling to him. "My brave lion!" He turned his head and saw the lady in the doorway of one of the abandoned buildings. The second floor of it flashed the light of a lit fire. She smiled at him as she went inside.

He practically ran after her into the building. The first floor was a destroyed mess, but when he reached the second floor, it was cleaned and almost refurbished. A fire was lit in a makeshift pit and there was a table with two mugs resting atop it. "Wouldn't it be better if we had a bed? I'm sure the tavern has a spare room."

"It does," she told him, "but we won't be lying down." She removed a shawl from her shoulders, exposing her cleavage she protected. She picked up one of the ales and handed it to him. Wine and ale make everything taste better, wouldn't you agree?"

"Such a thing has never been wrong." He took the mug and took a long drink, ravishing in its contents. "It's wine, the best I've ever had."

"It's an Arbor Gold."

"It's amazing, where did you get such a drink?"

"I had some left over."

"From what?" Trysten finally noticed that she hadn't had any of hers.

"The last feast of the Freys."

Trysten looked down to the wine in shock, realizing what he just drank. He dropped the mug and grabbed at his neck, feeling a sting arise in it. He fell to his knees as he felt a burn erupt from his stomach and seared his throat. The woman knelt down time him and leaned him forward.

"Careful now, I can't have that armor stained, my lion." He coughed up his own blood and choked on whatever didn't exit his mouth. His head pulsed and buzzed, feeling utter agony as he collapsed to the ground and losing his vision. Then he was nothing, he was no one.

* * *

Arya had never worn a full suit of armor before, and considering it was men for a grown man twice her size and felt like someone was sitting on her shoulders, she didn't like it very much. She would have to get Gendry to make her a suit that fit her. She would want something light, but also resembling the traditional Stark armor.

All the problems she felt disappeared when she put on her new face and became a Lannister soldier. He strapped his sword around his waist, retrieved the letter for Edmure Tully, and headed for the Twins leaving the faceless body in the woods to rot.

As he walked passed the camp, the Lannister soldiers gave no attention to him as he walked passed them. Making his way through the castle, he finally arrived at the door to Edmure's solar. He knocked and waited for a response.

"Come in." Trysten opened the door and saw Edmure Tully sitting on his bed. He looked like he was deep into his thoughts about something. He was dressed for bed and barefoot on the cold stone floor. He turned his head to Trysten, puzzled at his presence. "What do you want?"

"A letter from the North arrived this afternoon." Trysten held out the letter to the lord as he got up and walked over to him.

"It's nice to finally get a letter that's seal hasn't been broken for once." He said as reached out for the letter. When his hands tried to pull it, Trysten resisted and tightened his grip making Edmure look up at him, puzzled.

"Follows these instructions to the note, Lord Edmure, and everything will work out for the better. The North remembers." Trysten released the letter to Edmure and walked out, leaving him speechless. With the letter delivered, it was time to free the aunt and cousin of Arya Stark.

Being part of the Lannister army, Trysten was free to cross the bridge at will. After he had made it to the west side of the Twins and gotten far away from the castle and the camps, he removed his face and returned to who she was. Arya then disposed of the Lannister armor and gear, but kept Trysten's face with the others. The moon was high in the night sky and she had a long journey to Riverrun.

* * *

After three days riding, she only had one day left. The snows weren't as deep this south in the Riverlands and the Tully soldiers were scarcer. Arya was on her horse, trotting down a path, enjoying the light snowfall and the smell of the trees in the winter. It was much different than when she traveled with the Hound to the Eyrie. Things felt more peaceful and she didn't have to be on the run.

As Arya approached a small wooden bridge over a creek, she decided to refill her water pouch and let her horse rest for an hour. She dismounted and pulled on the reigns, guiding the horse to the water. As it lowered its head and drank, Arya retrieved her water pouch from the saddle and went a bit upstream and filled it up. She took a drink herself, enjoying the coldness of the flavor. When she exhaled after drinking, her throat felt like it would freeze instantly. Feeling refreshed, Arya returned to her horse and place her water pouch back onto the saddle. She then reached into a satchel that hung over the horse and pulled out the piece of shattered steel and a metal file she swiped from Gendry's forge before she left. Before she left, it was just an odd shape, but spending some time filing out jagged points and smoothing the edges, the piece of steel was starting to take shape.

As she ran the file up and down on the steel, she could start to hear to sound of horses approaching from the south. She looked up and scanning through the trees, she could see four Lannister men on the road heading north. She stooped her filing and put away the steel and file before mounting her horse to continue her travels. She crossed the bridge and began to hear the soldiers in a conversation, laughing and enjoying themselves. As she was about to pass them, they paid her no heed and she kept her gaze away from them on the road. In the corner of her eye, she noticed one of the soldiers' smiles vanished and turn into a scowl at Arya's hip. "Oy! Girl!" he called out. Arya stopped her horse and turned to face them, not saying a word. The soldier who called to her stopped his horse and dismounted, his companions doing the same, and approached her but kept their distance. "What are you doin out ere?"

"Heading south to Kings Landing." Arya lied.

"Where you from?"

"I'm returning from visiting my family near the Twins." As Arya looked at this man, she couldn't help but feel she's seen him from somewhere.

"That sword you have," he pointed to Needle, "where'd you get it?"

"It was a gift from my brother. He's a smith."

"It's quite a nice looking little blade, the design must be one of kind. But it's such a coincidence, because I've seen one that looked just like that. My friend Polliver had a sword like that when we at Harrenhal. Told me he nicked it from a boy in a Night's Watch caravan they captured."

"Are you sure it's the same sword?"

"Don't know, I only saw it once at Harrenhal before I left for Kings Landing. But then I heard that Polliver was killed at an inn with my other friends by the Hound." His hand crept to the pommel of his sword. "And a little girl he traveled with."

Arya sighed and dismounted. When her feet touched the ground, the soldiers drew their blade and pointed them at Arya. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Arya asked, removing her cloak from her shoulders.

"I've been in seven ba'les, I'm pretty sure a girl who thinks she can fight will be easier than them."

"I don't think so, considering you were probably at the back of the army, waiting for everyone else to do the fighting." Arya's provoking wasn't the best, but it was enough for the soldier to run at her, his sword held high and attempt to slash her. Arya easily dodged and ducked when he swung his blade again at her. His movements were horrible and slow enough that anyone could evade them. Having enough fun wearing him out, Arya drew needle and redirected his blade away and fluently cut at the back of his knee, waiting for him to buckle before sticking the pointy end into his eye and quickly pulling out, waiting for him to drop. She twirled needle around and kept it behind her back, waiting for her next opponent. The other men stared at her in shock before two of them rushed at her at the same time. Since the dagger was hidden on the saddle, Arya would have to kill them one at a time. The weak parts of their armor were at the joints and the neck. Sliding to the right, Arya spun around and planted needle in the shoulder of a soldier, cutting an artery and his blood began to empty from the wound. He fell to his knees, turning pale and dazed. He fell into the blood-stained snow moments later before Arya parried two strikes from the other soldier and managed to stick Needle into the man's mouth and out through the back of a head. He remained standing, but he was frozen in place and shaking. When Arya removed her sword, he fell to the ground next to his comrades.

Arya looked up at the last soldier who was the youngest of them all. He panicked and dropped his sword, running to his horse. He mounted it and rode as fast as he could to the north. Arya scoffed as she wiped the blood from Needle with the cape of one if her victims. The furthest Lannister camp she noticed during her riding was at least a day ahead so she had plenty of time to get away. As for the bodies, the wolves could have them.


	43. Daenerys IX

Daenerys

Only a month had passed since Jon's depatarture and the nights without himnext to Daenerys felt cold and lonely, but the days awake felt even lonelier. In every meal, the only one who gave her much company was Missandei and Tyrion, however they had their priorities elsewhere since Missandei had taken it upon herself to learn some of the Wildling languages to treat with them better and many of the few Dothraki that accompanied them from Dragonstone often fell into disputes with the Northerners and neither could understand what the other was saying. Tyrion on the other hand was stolen by Varys, Samwell Tarly, and Sansa Stark, working on preparations for the Army of the Dead. He had come up with many strategies about how to defend the Wall, but today they would discuss what to do if the Wall did indeed fall as Brandon Stark said it would.

Luckily for today, Missandei was with Daenerys as they broke their fast and oddly enough joined by Rickon Stark. He ate his bread and Honey while Missandei was speaking with Daenerys. "Your grace, I was informed by Lady Stark that some of the Wildling Elders are coming to Winterfell. They desire an audience with King Jon concerning some matters at the Dreadfort."

"Do we know when they'll be arriving?" Daenerys asked as she took a small bite of her pork sausage, but found something about it not to her liking.

"According to Lady Stark, they'll be arriving in three days."

Daenerys started to feel a headache come over her. She didn't even know what the problem the with the Wildlings was, but it seemed to give her some worry. "I don't think Jon will be back in three days, maybe not even three weeks. But I know he'll come back. We'll have to solve the matter ourselves if they can't wait for his return." Daenerys's gaze turned to Rickon who was listening in on them. "Of course, we'll need the help of the Lord of Winterfell and future Warden of the North."

Rickon swallowed his food, not looking happy, but rather nervous. "I think you'll want Sansa to be there instead of me. I'm not even twelve yet."

"And the Lady of Bear Island is just over elven, but if my lord desires, I will not require it of you to attend. However, I would advise you attend anyway when it happens. From what I've seen of you so far, you've shown all the qualities of a good lord. You only lack a bit more education and the confidence to act in certain situations."

Rickon looked down at his hands, appearing doubtful. "I just don't feel all that ready, so I'll just watch." He resumed eating his bread, taking large bites out of it. He looked back at Daenerys and Missandei, his mouth full of bread. "Haugh bag woth ha hafons go?"

Daenerys and Missendei tried to restrain their giggling at Rickon and his reminder that he was still a child. "I beg your pardon?"

Rickon swallowed his bread before repeating his question. "How big will the dragons grow?"

Daenerys couldn't say. When she landed at Dragonstone, she thought Drogon was at the largest he would ever get, but in the North, she'd already noticed his and his brother's size grow. "I honestly don't know the answer to that question. The largest dragon I know of was Balerion, Aegon the Conqueror's dragon. His head was the size of carriage and Drogon isn't far behind that size. But I'm sure that there were dragons even bigger than that before the Doom of Valyria."

"That was when all the Valyrians except the Targaryens died, wasn't it?"

"It was, but from what I understand, there were some others who survived the Doom, like a dargonlord named Aurion. He raised an army of thirty thousand and tried to claim what remained of Valyria, but he, his dragon, and his army disappeared without a trace."

"So Aurion had a dragon, but wasn't a Targaryen?"

"I do not know which family he belonged to, but a Targaryen he was not."

"So, it's possible for others to fly dragons?"

Daenerys could see the hope that gleamed in his eyes. It wasn't hard to tell that he wanted to ride one of the dragons. "I don't know the answer to that question. The Valyrians had magic that gave them the ability to bond and ride the dragons. I'm not certain where they acquired it, but things of old seem to be returning at a great amount. I won't say that it's possible, but I will say it's not impossible."

Rickon smiled at her and finished his bread. "Thank you for your time, your grace. I have to go do my drills now." He got up from the table and practically sprinted out of the Great Hall. It reminded Daenerys to finish her meal as well. Today she would be attending the War Council concerning defending the North instead of the Wall. Since the Great Hall was occupied for meals for the time being, she was told that the others were meeting on the balconies overlooking the courtyards. The whole walk to where they were gathered was exhausting, Daenerys's headache continued and the walk to the balconies felt like it was miles away. She felt tired and worn out, wanting to return to bed.

Daenerys and Missandei were greeted by Tyrion as they joined him, Lord Royce, and Lady Sansa. "Your grace, I'm glad you could make it." He looked delighted to see them, but it turned into concern. "Your grace, are you feeling alright? You look a bit out of the weather."

"It's just a headache," Daenerys sighed out, "please don't let it bother you."

Tyrion nodded his head, regaining half of the smile he had. "If it persists, I'll see of Maester Wolkan can get you some Milk of the Poppy." Daenerys smiled back at him, letting him know that would be fine.

"Where is Lord Varys?"

"I'm afraid he won't be joining us this morning. He said he had an urgent matter regarding some news he heard." Daenerys grew curious, but set her thoughts aside to focus on the meeting. "Now then, until we have room in the Great Hall to look over our map, we'll have to just go over options before the possibilities of them."

Lord Royce decided to voice his idea first. "The first thing we should determine is where the dead will strike at the Wall. They could attack any one of the manned castles to add more troops to there ranks or go for one of the abandoned castles to get passed any resistance. Though even with the increased number of men at the Wall, I hardly doubt there will be any resistance at all."

"As much as I'd like to disagree," Tyrion said, "Lord Royce is right. The largest amount of men manning a castle at the Nightfort and they have just over a thousand men. Though from what I have learned from our King, Eastwatch will be the where the army will march at, most likely."

"And how do you know this?" Lord Royce asked.

"Jon said that the White Walkers were gathering their army near a Wildling settlement called Hardhome. The closest castles to it are Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, Greenguard, and the Torches. I believe one of these three will be there target. I've ruled out Greenguard and the Torches because neither of them have a door to beyond the Wall and the Torches have the feature to signal the other castles from Eastwatch all the way to the Woodwatch, which is basically a short trip to Castle Black."

"Like you said, until we have a map, we can't go over the possibilities, only the options." Lord Royce reminded.

"And what are our options," Sansa asked, "regardless of what castle the army attacks?"

"I had some thoughts," Tyrion said, "one of them being that we once the hunting party returns-"

"If they return." Lord Royce said bluntly.

"When they return," Tyrion persisted, pleasing Daenerys, "I suggest we pull all the man at the castles back and wait for the army to come."

"Are you mad? We'll be utterly defenseless when they arrive."

"And we'll need every man we can get. The Wall is fortified, more than it has been for thousands of years, but even if all of the Night's Watch manned the exact castle that was going to be attacked, it would be four thousand against almost one hundred fifty thousand. And it wouldn't even be four thousand, only eight hundred since that's how many of them are rangers. If we are absolutely certain the Wall will fall, we probably should pull back every soldier we can and fortify Winterfell, prepare for the attack, set up defenses."

They were suddenly interrupted by the raging of Gendry at his forge. From what Daenerys knew, he had gone through several more blades after his five failures trying to make Valyrian steel. She couldn't provide any more dragonblood and Sam had been scouring his books vigorously trying to find an answer. He was calmed down by Varys who appeared as if from nowhere at the right time.

"That reminds me," Tyrion said, "since we can't seem to get anymore Valyrian weapons or dragonglass, I suggest we find a second solution next to burning the army with dragonfire."

"We have pitch," Lord Royce informed, "but not much at the moment. I can order for more to be made and shipped to Winterfell within the fortnight."

"We'll do that regardless if we'll need it or not, it never hurts to be prepared. Assuming that we can get more, I doubt we'll have much to make a difference. So, we'll need to get ahold of something already made and in vast quantities, and I have a solution."

"It wouldn't happen to be in King's Landing, would it?" Sansa asked.

"Indeed, it is, my lady. The alchemist's guild has many storerooms full of Wildfire, unused, and in great numbers."

"I'm sure Cersei won't just give it to us." Daenerys said.

"No, we'll have to have it smuggled out of the city. And luckily for us, we have a smuggler at our disposal and a man I trust in King's Landing. The only thing we have to worry about are Qyburn's little birds."

"Bran could help us somehow." Sansa suggested. "I'm still not sure how his 'visions' work, but he might be able to give us something to our advantage in all this."

"Right you are, my lady." Tyrion replied. "In fact, I was hoping you could talk to him later today. I've tried to myself, but he seems to always be in that state of… I'm afraid I forgot the name of it, but in the state of his eyes turning white."

As they continued on, Daenerys's headache worsened and she started to feel sick. Her mind was taken off the pain however, when Lord Varys approached them on the balcony with Gendry.

"My lords, my queen," he took notice of Daenerys's condition, "are you feeling alright? You look rather ill."

"I think I might have caught a sickness of a sort." Daenerys finally admitted.

"I'll fetch Maester Wolkan. I'll be short of a moment." Lord Royce said as he walked away from them.

"Was there something you have to report Lord Varys?" Daenerys asked, leaning against the railing of the balcony for support.

"I have a report from my spies about a conflict growing in the Stormlands. It seems that Lord Selmy of House Tarth was going to be the new liege Lord of the Stormlands and planned on declaring for House Targaryen."

"Did he have a change of heart recently?" Daenerys asked.

"No, your grace, his heart stopped beating after he took a nasty fall down some steps. The other lords believe it to be an accident, but my little birds sing a song that is much more convincing in these times. It might be that Cersei had someone orchestrate Lord Selmy's fall. She even plans to do the same with other lords who are considering to declare loyalty to you."

"What about his children? Brienne is his daughter. Does she have any siblings?"

"No, your grace. Brienne is his only descendant, making her the new Lady of Tarth. However, the others lords have returned to a state of confusion and are unsure who to follow."

"That's why I'm here." Gendry said. "I've thought about it, and I still don't want to be a lord. But if I'm going to survive this war, I can't wait for it to come to me. I need to act now." He knelt down on one knee and bowed his head to Daenerys. "If you would have me serve you as a lord, then I will."

Daenerys still feeling sick, gained her composure and stood over Gendry. "Do you swear loyalty to House Targaryen, to the Rightful King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the Realm, to pledge your banners, your men, and yourself, to answer when called upon. To protect the lands you will hold and the people who will serve under you?"

"I swear it by the old gods and the new."

"Rise, Gendry of House Baratheon, Lord of Storms End and the Stormlands." Gendry rose to his feet, looking discontent, but also proud of himself.

"Thank you, my queen. When Arya sends word that the Riverlands are secure, I'll ride for the Stormlands." Daenerys smiled at him, pleased at his mature decision. "If you wouldn't mind excusing me, I've got more work to do before I leave."

"Of course, my lord."

He bowed his head and went back to his forges, except he switched to something else instead of Valyrian Steel. Danerys turned her head to Lord Varys, looking pleased. "Was this your doing?"

"I did next to nothing, your grace." Varys replied. "I merely told him what I told you, and I reminded him that if he wants to be his own person, he should try doing it for once. I expected him to throw a hammer at me, but he seemed to contain the Baratheon fury."

Daenerys suddenly collapsed onto the railing, feeling out of energy and her stomach churning. "Daenerys!" Missandei stood next to her, holding onto her arm to give her some support. "You need to get back to bed."

"I think that would be wise." Daenerys agreed.

"Allow me to assist you, your grace." Varys took Daenerys's other arm and helped her walk off back to her chambers.

Before they entered the castle, the screeches of the dragons could be heard by everyone. Daenerys and the others looked out to the sky and saw all five of the dragons take flight. The force of Drogon's wings could be felt by everyone in Winterfell "Where are they going?" Missandei asked. All five of the dragons began heading north, disappearing above the clouds.

"I don't know." Daenerys said, but she lost thought after she felt something arise in her throat. She knelt down and vomited onto the wooden walkway. Missandei and Varys both knelt down to her, checking her condition.

"Where is Maester Wolkan?" Varys asked, looking around for him.

"Go get Sam." Daenerys croaked out before she let out more of the contents of her stomach. She started to feel disoriented and dazed and the smell of the stomach acid filled her nose and made her face scrunch in disgust. She was helped up to feet before Varys and Missandei rushed her to her room.

* * *

 

As she lay on her bed, changed into a nightgown, she started to feel better the more she let herself vomit into a bucket she was given. Sam had finally arrived, carrying a few bottles and a book with him. "Your grace," he said, "forgive me for the wait, Maester Wolkan was out of Milk of the Poppy and he's making more as we speak. I have some other things that will help you, but I need to check your condition first." Daenerys nodded at him and lay in her bed as he knelt down next to her. He placed his hand on her forehead, checking her temperature. "Small fever, vomiting, headaches, are you feeling nausea?"

"A little bit."

"Alright," he recorded all the symptoms onto a parchment he had as he went through them. "This might seem personal, but when's the last time you bled?"

"The last time was…" Daenerys thought about it and realized she hadn't bled for this moon and her previous one was too long ago. "It's not possible." She whispered.

"I'm sorry?" Sam inquired.

Daenerys ignored him for a moment and felt at her stomach, checking for any signs of firmness. "Your grace," Missandei said, "could you be with child?"

Daenerys looked up to her, feeling doubtful. "I can't be."

"Your grace," Sam said, "if I may." He gestured to her belly, hoping to inspect it himself. She nodded to him and allowed him to gently push against her skin. His eyes widened when he found a particular spot. "Oh my, I believe congratulations are in order." He smiled at her, but she only continued to be in distress. She felt where his hands were and felt the firmness of her womb forming. The sensation of it reminded her of one she had long forgotten. She suddenly remembered what Jon had told her not long ago after the capture of Pyke.

_'I can't have children Jon.'_

_'Who told you that?'_

_'The witch who murdered my husband.'_

_'Has it occurred to you she may have not been a reliable source of information?'_

She put her entire palms over her belly and felt a warmth that was exactly like the dragon eggs before they hatched. She finally managed to show some joy and start to laugh. For years she believed what the witch told her, but her she was now, defying the curse placed upon her. But as she continued to feel, she noticed that it was different from her first pregnancy, it felt like there was more in her. She closed her eyes and focused on the sensation around her stomach. She could feel the life inside her, and there was more than one. "Two," she whispered.

"Your grace?" Missandei asked.

Daenerys opened her eyes and looked up at her. "There's two of them."

"Twins?" Sam said, amazed.

"A dragon and a wolf." Her headache finally began to die down as she forgot about everything else except this. "Fire and Ice."


	44. Jon XVI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel I lost many of my readers becasue of this chapter, so if you don't want to read the Wight Hunt, Then skip to the bottom for the summary.

Jon

The arrowhead mountain provided a perfect place for the hunting party to recover and rest after days of walking without either. There was a deep cave that was small enough to be concealed and large enough to house everyone. The fires they made for warmth were small and the wood burned a thin smoke that blended with the snow. Jon had already had his turn to sleep and was currently on watch duty, sharing a tough strip of venison with Tormund as the kept watch over the valley and mountains below them. Jon tore out a bite, finding difficulty chewing through the cold meat.

"Pass it here." Tormund said, holding his glove out for the strip.

Jon gave it to him and looked back out into the storm, barely able to see a small canyon in the distance. He thought of the moment he saw the Army of the Dead with Bran and Rickon. The sheer size of it would make anyone tremble. It was the largest army in the world, for now he hoped.

"Why'd you come with us?" Tormund asked. "You could've stayed with your woman, prepare for the war, stay safe in your castle. Yet your decided to come with us, why?"

"I don't know. I can't explain it, but ever since I saw the Night King raise his army at Hardhome, something in me had to come back."

"You're the craziest person I've met if that's your reason."

Jon looked at him, as serious as he could be. "When I saw the Night King, he wanted me to know I lost, that I was going to lose again and I couldn't stop him. And when he saw me, he knew I believed him. This is my chance to show him that we're not beaten and we're not broken."

"You're doing it because you have something to prove. I take it back, you're not crazy, your fucking mad."

"You wouldn't understand."

"I understand more than you! I've lived my entire life in fear of the White Walkers and never once has anyone I've ever known tried to do something just so that they could say 'I'm not afraid.'"

"I'm not afraid, I'm terrified! You've lived your life like that, but I haven't. I always thought they were just a story until I saw them. I realized what they were and what was going to happen to us all. I can't let that happen to my family. If this is how we can finally get people to see the truth, they might finally realize that everything we've fought about in the past has been for nothing and this is the true evil that comes for us all."

"For once I wish you would stop doing things for others and do something for yourself. It's not a crime you know."

"I am doing this for me, so that I can protect my family, so I can protect my home, and so I can live after the wars to do something worth meaning."

"Pff, you southerners are always full of drama. Everything has to have a grand reason behind it. You never keep things simple. I'm here to make sure you don't die because you saved my people, that's it."

Jon chuckled as the snows began to lighten quickly. "There are some things we do for simple reasons. I rescued Daenerys from Euron Greyjoy because I was in love."

"That doesn't count," Tormund spat, "love is too complicated to be simple."

Jon's brow arched. He was ready to counter whatever Tormund would argue with, but he found himself at a draw.

Tormund ignored Jon as he walked forward, gazing out to the distance. "Look there." He pointed out to a stream that ran through the canyon far away from them and barely visible was a small party, walking downstream. "It's them. The Free Folk never travel out in the open in such a small group."

"How many?" Jon asked, not able to see as well as Tormund.

"It looks like nine, maybe ten."

"I'll wake the others. Don't lose sight of them."

* * *

The chase after the dead didn't take long. The hunting party arrived at a cliff overlooking the stream into the canyon. Jon and Tormund looked over the edge and saw the small troop of dead men consisting of nine wights and leading them was a White Walker. "Where's the rest of them?" Jon asked.

"If we wait long enough, we'll find out." Tormund reminded. "We can ambush them downstream. Start a fire to get their attention while we wait and hide, surrounding them."

"Then let's go."

It didn't take long for them to get down inside the canyon to a good position. One of the Wildlings started a fire with all the remaining would they had while everyone else took cover, hidden out of sight from any who would pass by.

With the trap set, all Jon could do was wait and listen. The only sounds that were made were the rushing of the water, the occasional crack in the fire, and the wind softly blowing. But through all of that, footsteps could be heard and the sound of ice cracking followed. Next to Jon was Jorah and the Wildling who started the fire, all of them waiting for Tormund's group to charge first. Sure enough, they heard the sound of the others yelling as they sprung the trap and that was the signal to join them. Jon revealed himself and went straight for the White Walker. He instantly had to parry a strike from the blade of ice and the Valyrian steel singed with each strike. The others were caught fending off the wights, trying to cripple and disabled them rather than destroy them. As Jon ducked under the ice blade after a vicious attack, he struck Longclaw across the belly of the White Walker and it shattered into bits of ice. Before he knew it, Jon saw the wights collapse into nothing but life piles of cold meat and bones. All except one.

The hunting party surrounded it as it growled and hissed at them, like an animal that only wanted to kill. They all kept their distance, cautious of any wild attack it might try to do. As they slowly closed the space between them and the wight, Tormund tossed his dragonglass halberd to the side and let the wight charge at him. He easily punched it to the ground before the Hound and Jorah piled on top of it.

Before they could tie the wight up, it let out a bone chilling screech that echoed throughout the canyon and beyond, like a beast crying out to its brethren for help. The Hound took one hand off his battle axe and covered the wight's mouth, trying to silence the dead man, but the flesh of his lips tore off.

Moments later, what was thought by everyone to be the sounds of thunder turned into the sounds of a glacier cracking. The noise came from the foot of a faraway mountain followed by a familiar unnatural snow storm. They were coming.

Jorah quickly put a bag over the wight's head as Jon scanned for the directions they could go. They wouldn't be able to outrun the Army the way they came, but they might stand a chance if they could get to a high ground that only they would be able to climb, then they could flee with a lead.

Jon saw a clear area down away from the stream and it looked like their only option for now. With the wight bound, they set off as fast as they could, away from the oncoming doom, though they wouldn't get as far as they hoped. The weight of the furs and boots they wore and the deep snow slowed them down. In the clearing, the ground was flat and a small patch of rock rose out in the middle. But once they set foot on the flat ground, it cracked with each step. "Stop!" Jorah yelled as they looked down and realized they stood on ice. They were going to have to be careful not to break through. However, when they all heard growling and shoving behind them, they turned around and saw a horde of wights coming after them. They charged like ants, each wight trying to climb over the other to see who would get there first.

"Go!" Jon yelled as they all sprinted as fast as they could to the rocky island. Jon hoped they could get to the other side of the frozen lake fast enough, but more wights appeared and ran faster than him, encircling the lake and trapping them.

Jon made it first to the island and looked around at the surrounding army. They didn't have any openings they would be able to take, so they would have to fight until the death. He then looked over to others still running, Tormund, Brienne, Anguy, one of the Wildlings, and the Hound had caught up with him. Beric and the last Wildling moved slower assisting Thoros and the dead were catching up to them. The Wildling slipped on the ice and collapsed, but he got back to his feet and ran as fast as he could, but the dead were catching up too fast. He wasn't going to make it.

One of the wights got right up behind him, but before he could be tackle the Wildling, Anguy shot an arrow right through its skull. It stopped in its tracked and collapsed, tripping the wights behind it and caused the ice to break and the wights to fall in. The ice continued to break all around them, creating a perimeter of safety that protected them. Jon let out a sigh of relief as the Wildling caught up to them, out of breath as everyone else. After many wights fell into the icy waters, they stopped moving and just stood in place, like guards keeping their prisoners in their cells.

Sandor walked up to the top of the island and dropped the wight to the ground, letting it squirm and grunt in the snow. "Fan-fucking-tastic Snow!" He shouted. "We got our dead man! Now what do we do?"

Brienne shoved him in the shoulder. "He's not a Snow! He's the King!"

"Do I look like I give a fucking damn about who the fuck is King right now? Fuck you, fuck the dead," he turned his gaze to Jon, "fuck the King." He walked away from Brienne to the edge of a rise on the island, staring out to the wights who continued to surround them in vast numbers.

"He has a point," Anguy said, "how do you expect us to get out of here now? Unless you brought a dragon with you, I doubt we'll be able to fight our way back to the Wall."

"I didn't bring one with me," Jon told them, "but I can get five here instead." All heads turned to Jon as he sheathed Longclaw and walked over to a rock that emerged from the island. He sat down and got as comfortable as he could. He began to warg, but he wasn't able to find Rhaegal or the dragons. He wasn't sure how he did it from Pyke, but this time it felt like something was keeping him from going south of the Wall, as if something was holding on to him.

After a while, he returned to himself out of the void, and felt exhausted. Tormund was kneeling next with Anguy who watched in wonder. "Did it work?" Tormund asked.

"Something was blocking my reach to the dragons. I couldn't get past the Wall."

"As I said," Sandor began, "what the fuck do we do now?"

Jon thought of why he couldn't reach the dragons. He was able to warg as a raven with Bran and Rickon when the flew over the Wall, but maybe it was different in the True North. Maybe he had to find something north of the Wall and bring it south. "If you see a bird anywhere, I might be able to fly it south to Winterfell, then I can get the dragons."

"That's not going happen at all." Tormund informed. "Almost every animal knows to avoid the dead as pure instinct. The ones that fail to flee are just more meat for the Night Kings army." Tormund pointed his halberd out a section of the dead high on a cliff, consisting of snowbears, direwolves, and foxes. The eyes of blue shined brighter in the animals than they did in the eyes of the wights. Jon took a good long look at everything that surrounded them. He saw wights, animals, and giants, all gathering around the frozen lake. The numbers were in the tens of thousands and still the dead continued to appear. But even after seeing everything he did, he knew that this was nowhere near the entire army and the number of wights appearing started to dwindle.

He turned to everyone with him and could see the fear and doubt in them. "Bran," Jon whispered to himself, "if you can hear me, I need your help."

* * *

Night fell and no one had the courage to rest. The air grew colder and the dead hadn't even budged since they first ceased moving. With their supplies gone and the fires that radiated from Beric and Thoros' swords were not large enough to give enough heat, everyone paired together and huddled with each other to keep warm. Tormund tried to get with Brienne, but she had already claimed Jorah, not trusting anyone else but him and Jon. The Hound was the only one who refused, but after hours of shivering, he gave in and joined Anguy with the rest of the Brotherhood.

Jon felt himself starting to feel out of mind as the stares of the dead continued to linger on them. No matter where he looked, the eyes of blue were there, looking into his very soul. Though he could think of a worse situation. It was better for him to be able to always see that which watched him, rather than not be able to but constantly know that he was being watched, never able to find who was looking at him.

"Thoros?" Jon heard Beric speak. He turned to look at the Red Priest, realizing he stopped moving. Jon got up and walked over to Beric, Anguy, and Sandor with Tormund, inspecting the situation. Thoros lied in the snow, his eyes and mouth open and his skin as white as the snow. Beric pulled the red robes over the priest's face, the only possible burial respect he could do.

Sandor Knelt down next to Beric, offering any sympathy he could. "They say it's one of the better ways to go." The Hound found Thoros' flask and took it from him since he wouldn't be needing it anymore. He uncorked a took a small drink while Beric said his prayer.

"Lord of Light, show us the way, come to us in our darkness and lead your servant into the light."

Jon knew that having a dead body around them was risky given what could be coming to join the Army of the Dead soon. He snatched the flask from Sandor who did not look pleased at him. "We have to burn his body." Jon poured the rum over Thoros' body, covering as much as he could.

"We'll all be close behind," Tormund said, "unless the Lord of Light is kind enough to send us a bit of fire."

Beric drew his sword and ran his hand on the blade, igniting it in flames. He lit the body and allowed it to burn for a moment. "Lord of Light, come to us in our darkness, for the night is dark and full of terrors."

"For the night is dark and full of terrors." Anguy repeated as Beric stabbed his sword into the ground, dowsing the fires of his blade. Despite what happened, everyone couldn't help but gather around the burning body to fight against the cold. Everyone except for Sandor. He stayed away, not out of respect, but fear of the flames and the smell.

It didn't take long for the body to turn into a charred husk. The brief moment of warmth was gone and everyone was back together, huddling for what qualified as heat. The wight continued to squirm and grunt, the only noise other than that and the shivering were the sounds of ravens in the distance. Jon looked up to the sky and could see a flock of ravens overhead, circling the lake.

"Thank you, Bran," Jon said as he immediately warged into one of the ravens. The flock ceased circling the lake and immediately flew south. Jon unwillingly followed them, feeling the instinct of going home. The sensation he felt the first time he was a raven returned to him, but he had a better understanding of it now. As a raven, his perception of time was different. He didn't care of how long it took to fly, only that he would get to his destination. The earth below zoomed by and before he knew it, he passed the Wall and was back in the North, but he had to wait until he saw the dragons to warg into them.

As quickly has the first light came to horizon, it was followed by the sun and it became morning by the time Winterfell came into sight. The flock of ravens landed in a dead tree near the castle and the dragons were in the fields, resting together in the snow. Rhaegal lifted his head and looked directly at Jon, sensing the presence of his rider. Jon left the raven and warged into all five dragons. Ygris, Lyarras, and Rhaegal all heard him clearly, but Viserion and Drogon seemed to ignore him, pushing aside anything Jon tried to communicate to them.  _'Help us.'_  He could sense the worry of the three dragons that listened, but he also felt discontent among Rhaegal and his brothers. He growled at Viserion and Drogon, becoming angry at their laziness. Drogon snapped his jaws at Rhaegal, merely trying to scare him away.

Jon was losing his grip on Rhaegal. They're purposes grew too far apart and he could feel himself slipping. But then he felt all three of Daenerys's dragons' thoughts align with one another as they felt something affecting their mother. The dragons turned their gazes to the castle, sensing something new, something precious to Daenerys, something precious to Jon. Whatever it was, it changed the minds of Drogon and Viserion and the same thought coursed through them and Rhaegal.  _'Keep our family safe.'_  They were the first to take to the skies, the other two following as quickly as they could, heading for the source of the call.

Jon suddenly felt pain, a great dull stabbing pulsed in his mind. Something was breaking his link with the dragons. He returned to himself on the island, sweating and out of breath. He was on his hands and knees, gasping for air. Beric and Brienne were kneeling down to him, making sure he was alright. "You're back." Beric said.

"Aye, it won't be long now. We just have to wait until the dragons get here."

"I don't think we'll last that long. While you were gone, we were joined by more spectators."

Jon looked up and was mortified at the sight. The Army of the Dead had grown four times the size it was before he warged. This was it, the entire army. Brienne and Beric helped Jon up as he looked around. The greatest army in the world was surrounding them and the only thing that protected them from the dead was thin ice. "How many?" Jon asked.

"We haven't exactly counted them all, but if I had to guess, I would say around one hundred sixty thousand."

Jon looked around, begging that this was a nightmare to wake up from. Everyone was on edge, Tormund more than anyone. He and Sandor were sitting at the foot of the island, resting after cracking as much as the ice around it they could with their steel axes. They were trying to create a second moat the dead wouldn't be able to cross when the outer ring freezes. The most they could do was create a single line around the foot of the island, forcing any dead to have trouble advancing from the front. "I take it the ice isn't thick enough for the dead."

"No, but it won't be for much longer, they just don't realize it yet."

"If the gods were kind," Brienne said, "they never would."

Hours seemed to pass and the only thing that took everyone's attention away from the Army of the Dead was the trading of shifts to keep the ice broken. Eventually they managed to destroy the entire patch of ice with the border they made. Jon stood as the foot of the island, counting how many wights in black he could see. His number reached high into the hundreds as he grew upset.

Jorah walked up to him, shivering and quiet. "When you killed the White Walker, almost all the dead that followed it died. Why?"

"Maybe he's the one who turned them." Jon suspected.

"We can go for the Walkers. Maybe we'll stand a chance."

"No," Jon said, knowing no matter how great their skill, there would be no way they would win a head on fight, "we need to take this one back with us to Winterfell. The dragons are on their way." Beric walked up next to them, his attention elsewhere. "They are our last hope."

"No," Beric said, "there's another." He pointed his sword up at a rise overlooking the frozen lake. "Kill him." Jon looked where the sword pointed and saw the Night King and six of his Walkers on their undead horses. "He turned them all." Everyone gathered with them to get a view of who the true enemy was.

Beric made it sound easy, but Jon knew that there was more to the Night King than he showed. "You don't understand."

"The Lord brought you back, the Lord brought me back, no one else, just us. Did he do it to watch us freeze to death?"

"Careful Beric," Sandor told him, "you lost your priest. This is your last life."

"I've been waiting for the end for a long time. Maybe the Lord brought me here to find it."

"Every lord I've ever met has been a cunt. I don't see why the Lord of Light would be any different."

Anguy stayed behind them with his bow readied. "Pray this works," he whispered. In a split second, he drew his bowstring with a dragonglass arrow knocked and released it. It sailed through the air rapidly towards the Night King. Everyone held their breath as it drew closer. The arrow was aimed straight for the head, but it was stopped inches away as the Night King caught it midair. He snapped the shaft and dropped the arrow before falling back behind his lieutenants, obstructed. "Fuck."

"How many arrows you got left?" Sandor asked.

"Only two. I have feathers and three arrowheads, but no shafts." Anguy informed as he patted a small pouch around his belt. "That was probably our only chance to kill him here, but now I know how fast they are." Anguy drew the last two arrows from his quiver and held one in between each of his fingers in his draw hand. "Keep your eyes on the army if this works." He quickly knocked the first arrow and released it and did the same with the second arrow just as fast. They both sailed through the cold winds, searching for their marks. The first arrow imbedded itself deep into an undead horse, causing the Walker riding it to be thrown off balance and the second arrow pierced its neck. The Walker let out a deafening scream as it cracked slowly then shattered into ice.

All around the hunting party, everyone could see movement among the wights that surrounded them. Many fell, but only a few thousand, including a giant, it's mammoth, and some of the animals. "Well now we know for sure how to beat them." Anguy said. "Maybe I can salvage the wood from one of the dragonglass weapons-." He stopped mid-sentence, frozen by something everyone missed while looking around. "Where'd the Walkers go?"

Everyone's gaze turned back to where the White Walkers and the Night King were and saw that they were gone. "Did they run away to cover?" Jorah asked.

"I don't think so," Jon said, scanning the nearby surroundings. But as quickly as they disappeared, they showed themselves walking through the masses of their foot soldiers up to where the ice caved in. They stood with their army, motionless as they were. The Night King stood in the center of them in the open, knowing they had no chance to attack him with ranged weapons. He slowly raised his arms up as he did at Hardhome after the massacre, his eye's fixed onto Jon.

What the Night King didn't notice was that Sandor knelt down behind Jon, picked up a small rock and threw it high into the air. It sailed forward and landed right on the Night King's temple, but he was physically unaffected by it. "Dumb cunt." Sandor commented.

The Night King lowered his arms and turned his gaze to Sandor, who appeared not to give a damn. Tormund and the other Wildlings turned to face the Hound, amazed. "You just hit the King of the Dead with a rock," Tormund said, Sandor looking unimpressed at his accomplishment. "If we make it back and the other Free Folk here about this, you'll be a legend."

Next to the Night King, a wight took a few steps forward, but the ice was still too thin and it gave way, bringing the wight down into the cold waters. The Night King looked at the hole for a moment before looking back at Jon. He knelt down to the ice and place his palm on it. After seconds, the patch of broken ice froze solid and all the wights looked down at the ice.

"Oh, fuck." Sandor said as a few wights began to walk over the ice, dragging their weapons on the surface making a horrifying scraping sound. More began to follow them to the island as everyone backed up and readied their weapons for the oncoming horde. The dead avoided the broken area of ice surrounding the base of the island and went straight for the sides.

"Stay away from edges!" Tormund shouted. "They'll try to pull you down!" Everyone kept close to the center as wights started to climb over one another onto the island. Jon raised up Longclaw and Beric's sword ignited in his Lord's fire.

The first wight that made it was closest to Sandor and charged straight at him. "Fuck it," he said as he ignored Tormund's advice and ran to meet the dead man. He swung his axe hard and separated the dead man's torso from his legs. He brought his axe down on the wights head and immediately swung at another wight that climbed over. At this point, everyone was attacking wights from all around, but they were coming in moderate waves.

That all change however as the broken ice began to freeze instantly from the magic of the White Walkers and the dead began to run up the foot of the island. "Form a line!" Jon shouted as he dealt with three wights that tried to overpower him, but Longclaw's edge cut clean through all of their necks with one strike. The endless coming of the dead reminded Jon of the Battle of Bastards, but the feelings weren't about the fury of the battle, they were the fear to survive.

Jon could barely keep up his defense as the wights kept coming. As soon as he killed one, another would appear faster than the first. Through the midst of the horde, Jon could notice two of the White Walkers joining the horde in approaching the island. One carried a sword of ice and the other a spear of ice. The didn't seem to be heading for Jon though. Their directions were towards Jorah and Brienne who fought defending the front. Before Jon could do anything to help them, a wight lit on fire from Beric's sword ran past him and fell onto the bound wight, attempting to ignite it. Jon chased after it and shoved it off the captured wight and impaled it with Longclaw. He doused the flames on their captive, but the sounds of growling behind him caught his attention and he fended off two wights that attacked him. One of the Wildlings dragged their wight further up the island to keep it away from its comrades, but as he got closer to the top, three other wights made it through the line and charged at him. Jon chased after them, cutting one down, another killed by the Wildling with a dragonglass pike, but it was knocked away as the third wight started to push the wildling towards the edge. Jon ran after them and killed the wight just before it reached the edge, but the Wildling was about to fall from the momentum. Jon quickly reached out his hand, but the Wildling's fingers only grazed his as he fell into a swarm of dead men. He disappeared he was pulled to the ground, screaming in the shadows as and blood spattered from his location. A moment later, the Wilding stood back up with eyes of blue.

From behind, Jon heard the hypnotic sounds of Valyrian steel clashing against the blades of ice. Jon turned and saw Brienne fighting against one of the Walkers. She seemed to be able to hold her own against such a foe, but Jorah on the other hand was desperately struggling. His ability in fighting was greater with a sword, but all he had were two dragonglass daggers. One of them broke against the ice sword because of the brittleness of rocks. Jorah couldn't seem to parry, only dodge so that his only weapon of use against the White Walker wouldn't break. Jorah managed to catch the Walker off guard and kick it onto its back away from him, but he was unable to go for the kill because of two wights that protected their master. He was able to kill them, but the Walker got back up and was about to face Jorah again.

"Jorah!" Jon shouted. Jorah turned around as Jon flipped Longclaw in his hand and tossed the sword to him, hoping he would catch it in time. The sword twirled in the air right before Jorah caught the handle and spun to meet the Walker. He clashed the sword and in moments decapitated the White Walker. Some of the wights collapsed just before Brienne impaled Oathkeeper into the White Walker she fought. Many more wights fell after, but not enough to lighten the horde that grew closer. "Fall back!" Jon ordered as he picked up the broken pike and began to fend off wights that climbed from behind the line of warriors.

From the front, Jon heard strange screeches made and saw a squad of wight direwolves charging forward. The ice underneath one of the larger ones collapsed and it fell into the water, but six more were on the way. The ones in their way were the last Wildling, Jorah, the Hound, Brienne, and Tormund. Anguy threw one if his daggers into the head of one direwolf, but the rest made it to the island. They all leaped at the line, Tormund dodged his while slicing the belly with his halberd, Jorah and Brienne fell backwards and impaled theirs, Sandor dodged his, but it turned it switched its attention to Jon and charged after him, while the last one leap onto the last Wildling, avoid his spear and tearing into his neck. Sandor had ditched his axe and stabbed the direwolf with a dragonglass dagger and fell back with the others as Jon fought the last direwolf. He dodged it and delivered a strike to its neck, but it wasn't deep enough for the power of the glass to kill it. It jumped on top of him, but Jon was able to put the pike into the mouth of the direwolf, keeping from biting at him. He wrestled with it and lost grip of the pike and it was tossed aside. Jon managed to grab hold of his own dragonglass dagger and stab it deep into the neck of the wolf, killing it. He shoved it off and crawled to the pike, instantly defending against a wight as soon as he got it.

Jon sheathed his dagger and had a moment to finally look around at the lake. Almost the entirety of it was covered with wights, all coming at them. But in the heart of the bleakness, Fire rained down onto the horde from above and exploded on the impact it made. Drogon flew over the island and continued to breath fire, creating a wall that the dead could not pass. Rhaegal and Viserion destroyed what they could on the mountains around them while Ygris and Lyarras lightened the force of wights attacking Jon and the others. The heat of flames melted the stinging cold away and everyone finally had a chance to rest themselves for a moment that was ever so brief before Rhaegal swooped down to them and landed on the island, waiting for every to get on him.

"Come on!" Jon shouted as he approached his dragon. Before he could climb up, some of the wights that weren't burned had climbed onto the island and charged after Jon, staying in the way of the living so that Rhaegal could not attack them. Jon protected himself and fought against the wights while Sandor and the others brought the wight to Rhaegal. Tormund carefully climbed onto the dragon, followed by Sandor and Brienne. Jorah, Beric, and Anguy continued to hold back any wights that continued after them. Jon joined them as soon as he finished off his wights and allowed the others to get onto Rhaegal. He stood next to Jorah and impaled a Night's Watch wight that nearly slashed at him. With enough gone that they could retreat, Jorah faced Jon momentarily and handed back Longclaw to him and ran up the island to Rhaegal. Beric followed after him after dousing his sword and Jon was the only one left. He dropped the pike and parried an axe before killing its wielder, nearly ready to get to Rhaegal.

In the corner of his eye, Jon noticed the Night King returned to the ledge, holding a lance of ice, aiming up at the sky. He threw it high into the sky, the lance whistling right before it dug deep into the body of Viserion. The dragon cried out in pain as vast amounts of blood poured out of the wound as the dragon fell from the sky. Rhaegal and the other dragons screeched in a way that sounded sad as Viserion crashed into the frozen lake. He rested on the ice briefly before his eyes fell closed and he sank into the water, disappearing from sight.

Everyone was mortified at what they had witnessed, except for Jon, all he felt was rage. He looked away from where Viserion crashed and destroyed two wights that charged after him with ease. He met the gaze of the Night King and didn't take his eyes away. The first time they looked at each other, Jon was afraid, but now he was angry, desiring the moment when the Night King would die. But the hate turned into worry as a wight behind the Night King retrieved another ice lance shethed in a holder on an undead horse, walking towards him. The Night King's gaze switched to Rhaegal who was still waiting for his rider.

Jon started to back away and ran to Rhaegal, hoping he would get there in time. Unexpectedly to Jon, the ice beneath him cracked and collapse. Jon's lost his grip on Longclaw, dropping his sword as his body landed on the ice, but his legs fell into the water. He tried to crawl out, but two wights emerged from the water and grabbed onto his legs, pulling him down with them. Jon tried to shake them off, but he was failing and knew he would go under. "RHAEGAL LEAVE!" he screamed out. The dragon looked him, not obeying his plea. Jon warged into the dragon and fought against Rhaegal's will with all he had, forcing the dragon to abandon him. Even though Jon was in the mind of the dragon, he felt the cold surround him and he was dragged into the water. Rhaegal finally obeyed and spread his wings and hopped off the island, taking a moment to adjust to the weight on his back. As Rhaegal climbed to the skies, Jon remembered the lance meant for the dragon.  _'Watch out!'_  Jon's thoughts shouted as Rhaegal turned his body and was nearly missed by the lance, but it grazed his neck and get his hide. Luckily, the wound was not fatal or severe, but it left a large gash that stung.

Jon returned to himself as he continued to sink down into the cold depths. He had no air in his lungs and he couldn't feel parts of his body. In the water, he was able to free himself from the wights' grip on him and starting swimming up to the surface. He emerged and gasped for air, grabbing onto the ice to keep from sinking. His furs were drench and became heavy as he pulled himself out of the water and onto the surface. He reached for Longclaw and crawled forward a little before lying still, closing his eyes and begging for rest. He could feel the water beginning to turn to ice as he finally shook the tempting desires of death from him and stood up slowly. He gradually walked away from the island and towards and open area on the lake that the dragons didn't burn that he could pass.

It wasn't long before he heard the snarling of the wights approaching and saw the entire horde coming after him. There was no chance in the world he would have to survive this alone. As desperate as he could, Jon raised Longclaw up, not willing to die without a fight. In the distance, he saw flashes of light appear and a horse with a black cloaked rider galloping towards him. The horse stopped near Jon and the rider dismounted, revealing his face to him. "Uncle Benjen?" Jon shivered out as he uncle grabbed hold of him and helped him onto the horse. He tore Longclaw from Jon's hands and sheathed iit in its scabbard.

"We don't have long, save it for later," Benjen said as he mounted the horse and spurred it forward. They both rode away from the Army of the Dead and the White Walkers as Jon became to lose feeling in his arms and legs. If his gloves weren't frozen, he would've dropped Longclaw to ground. He lost consciousness and black out from the cold. "Dammit Jon, stay awake!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viserion dies, Benjen saves Jon and rides away with him after Jon escapes the freezing cold water.


	45. Tyrion IV & Rickon V & Brienne I

Tyrion

The news of the Queen's pregnancy spread like Wildfire. All over Winterfell there was gossip about her and her children. It brought the mood and morale up to great heights. For Tyrion, such a thing didn't just boost his morale, it gave him hope, something he'd hadn't had much of lately. Because of this he was able to handle upcoming issues with a greater performance than usual and he was more confident in their success. Currently, he tried to have Gendry take a moment away from his forge to discuss his new status and responsibilities with Varys, but the boy seemed to calm down while working his metal. He was in the middle of forging a steel gorget and was etching something in the front of the collar.

"Just so we know what we're dealing with," Tyrion said, "how much do you actually know of what a lord is?"

"Lords live in castles, they have lands, servants, soldiers, and the bad one's drink wine more than they fight." Gendry told them.

Tyrion turned his head to Varys, not sure whether to deny it or agree with it. "It's a start I suppose." He leaned up against an anvil the wasn't in use at the moment. "From the outside, being a lord appears to be simple. You do rule over lands, people, and soldiers, but you also have a duty to them. Should problems or conflict arise, it will your job to settle such things."

"I told Arya the same thing I'm about to tell you. A lord doesn't rule over people, he serves them."

"Yes, the good lords do."

"All my life I've served people, why do I want to keep doing that?"

"Because," Varys intervened, "you will be showing the people that they have a good place to call home. A place they know they can be safe and live happily. You yourself grew up in Kings Landing under the rule of your father, Joffrey, Tommen, even Cersei. How did that work out?"

Gendry paused at his work, thinking over Varys's question. "I had a job, I made money, I even had a small place to live. But, everyone else didn't seem that lucky. There wasn't a day in the city when there wouldn't be a dead body in one of the streets. I would've left sooner, but I had nowhere else to go."

"Am I correct in guessing that everyone of those dead bodies had the same problem?" Tyrion asked. Gendry nodded silently and resumed his work. "I've never been to the Stormlands myself, but I do know that it's better there than it is in King's Landing. As a lord, you could make sure that there wouldn't have to be horrific things in the kingdom like there are in Kings Landing. It won't be easy work. That's the truth of it, but best things in life are never easy to get."

Gendry looked up and scowled at him for stating the obvious. "I already know everything you're telling me. I'm a smith, I spend days to weeks making the best of what I can. What I don't know, is why I have to do it at all. Can't I just have others take care of those problems for me?"

"Your father chose to live his life the easy way and let others do the work for him, and we all know how that turned out." Tyrion let that sink in for minute so Gendry could understand. "You don't have to all the work by yourself, you can have others to help guide you. In fact, we were thinking of asking someone whom you trust-"

The conversation was cut sort by the sound of the dragons screeching in the sky. Everyone looked up and saw Ygris, Drogon and Rhaegal fly over the castle to the fields. Varys informed Tyrion earlier that Brandon Stark informed him that the dragons left to rescue the hunting party. Desperate to know the outcome, Tyrion rushed from the forge with Gendry and Varys to go see if they were successful.

When they exited the gates, now joined by a few soldiers, Tyrion could see more men than had left dismounting Rhaegal. Among them was a bound person with a bag over its head. Tyrion and the others stopped to keep their distance from the dragons and took a moment to notice the bound person's rotting flesh and despicable growls. "They did it." Tyrion said as he pressed forward alone, grinning at the success. He saw Tormund, Brienne, and Jorah among others he did not expect to see. Lowering the undead body off the dragon was Sandor Clegane. The others on the ground who caught the body were two men Tyrion did not know of.

The moment The Hound jumped off the dragon, Rhaegal roared and spread his wings. The force of his flaps pushed knocked Tyrion backwards onto the ground as he took to the skies, flying back to North leaving the other dragons behind. When Tyrion picked himself up, he noticed that there was still one dragon missing among those he's seen returned.

"Tyrion," Jorah said as he approached him, "we captured a wight… but we paid a terrible price."

"Viserion died?" Tyrion asked with disbelief. He thought nothing could kill the dragons. "Daenerys won't take this well, even after the blessing that's happened."

"What blessing?" Jorah asked.

"Daenerys is pregnant with twins." Tyrion hoped that would uplift Jorah's spirits, but he looked even more distressed. "Something else happened." He suspected.

"Viserion wasn't the only one who fell beyond the Wall." Jorah turned to face everyone else who came with him, revealing a terrible fate to Tyrion.

He became mortified when he realized what Jorah meant. He became filled with hate towards himself and his stupidity. All of his plans he's made to benefit Daenerys backfired ever since they returned to Westeros. He lost Dorne, the Reach, and the Iron Islands. Now because of him, the Kingdoms had lost their king. "I'll be the one to tell her." Tyrion said quietly as he turned around and walked back to the castle, silent to everyone and himself.

* * *

He stood outside the door to Daenerys's room and hesitated to knock. He'd never had to do something like this before and he was afraid to. He thought of how he could make things up to her, but then he realized that nothing could. "You don't have to do it alone." A woman said from behind him. Tyrion didn't need to turn around to recognize Missandei's voice.

"You know?"

"Everyone does. It doesn't take long for words to travel. The only one who doesn't know is in that room."

"I figured as much." He finally turned to face Missandei who looked just as scared as he did. "Please come with me." He wasn't sure if he could tell Daenerys alone. Missandei nodded to him, giving a saddened but reassuring smile. Tyrion knocked on the door and waited, every second feeling like a lifetime.

"Come in." Daenerys said. Tyrion opened the door and walked inot the room with Missandei close behind him. Danerys was in her bed, still resting from her sickened episode. "Tyrion, Missandei, what do I owe the pleasure?"

Tyrion couldn't look her in the eye, he didn't have the courage to. "Daenerys, the dragons returned with those that went north of the Wall. They were able to capture a wight."

Daenerys somehow could feel his sorrow radiating from him and knew something was wrong. "What happened?"

"Not everyone made it back, and not all the dragons." He finally looked up to her and saw her afraid of what he would tell her. "Viserion died at the hands of the Night King. From what I was told, Jon fell shortly afterwards." Daenerys looked away from him to the foot of her bed, looking as if she were begging for the news not to be true. Her mouth began to shiver and she was on the verge tears. Tyrion walked over to an end table and removed his Hand pin. "After one too many failures, I would like to resign as your Hand." He placed the pin on the table and left it there. "I'm sorry." He walked out of the room, leaving Daenerys with Missandei. Even as he got far from the room, he could hear her crying echo throughout the hallways.

* * *

Rickon

Everyone was disappearing all around him. First Ghost left, then Jon, then Arya. Even with Bran helping Rickon develop his greensight, he couldn't find Ghost anywhere in the North. The news about Jon devastated him, but even when he heard it, he didn't cry. He felt sad but he wouldn't allow himself to show weakness. But in case he couldn't hold back his tears, he decided to be with the only person who didn't care, Bran. The two of them sat together in the Godswood, not saying anything to the other. Bran had his hand placed on the weirwood, having a vision of Gods know where. Rickon didn't want to join him, he had too much to think about.

With Jon gone, what would happen? Would they win the fight against the dead? Should they just leave the North and sail to an island? Too many questions, no one to answer them. One question lingered in Rickon's mind more than any other. 'Why do people I love have to die?' His father, Ser Rodrick, his mother, Robb, Osha, Shaggydog, and now Jon. What started all these things that led to so much death? Was is when Littlefinger killed Jon Arryn and said it was the Lannisters? Was it when Rhaegar ran away with his aunt Lyanna? Or was it when his father died that everyone else followed after him. What event was the stone that was thrown down a mountain that became a rockslide?

Rickon couldn't take anymore, he needed to get away from all of it, and he knew exactly how. He stood up from the snow-covered ground and placed his hand on Bran's shoulder, following him to wherever he was. Instantly, Rickon found himself standing next to Bran on a cliff, overlooking a frozen lake with a small island in the middle. "You're just in time," Bran told him as he pointed down to the coast of the lake, "look down there." Rickon followed where Bran pointed and saw a familiar evil he met face to face.

"The Night King."

"He's already seen me, but he doesn't seem to care. In fact he wants me to see."

"See what?"

"Watch." From behind the Night King, a stampede of undead giants, consisting of at least thirty, charged to the frozen lake. The moment the first one stepped onto the ice, it cracked and gave in. Despite knowing this, the giants continued to run to lake and fall through the ice into the water.

"What are they doing?" Bran didn't say anything, he just kept watching. Moments later, the heads of some of the giants emerged from the water very slowly as they all tugged hard to get something extremely heavy out of the water. As their entire bodies came out drenched and heavily dripping, they pulled and pushed the body of the bronze colored dragon. Rickon couldn't remember the name as the Giants brought the body all the way onto the land and let go of it. They backed away as the Night King walked forward to the dragon's head and placed his hand upon it. After just mere seconds, the dragon opened its eyes and they were a color of an icy blue.

"That's how he'll do it." Bran said openly. "He's going to destroy the Wall with Viserion." As the dragon began to get back on its feet, the Night King looked at Bran and Rickon, showing a faint smile. "Time to go." Bran put his hand on Rickon's shoulder and they left the Night King and the undead dragon, but they weren't back in Winterfell. They were in the middle of a forest still beyond the Wall. From behind, Rickon heard the sounds of a fire burning and turned to see a man of the Night's Watch sitting next to one.

His horse was tied up to a tree and slung over the saddle was a large object wrapped in a Night's Watch cloak. "Good to see you again." The man said as he tossed a large stick onto his fire. "Is the dragon on its way?"

"Rhaegal just flew over the Wall as we speak." Bran informed the stranger.

"He can hear us?" Rickon asked, but was ignored.

"Rhaegal?" The man inquired. "After his blood father. How fitting." The man turned around to face Bran and Rickon, revealing his face. "You brought Rickon with you?" The man looked like a corpse slowly decomposing, but he wasn't a soldier of the Night King.

"He can see us too?" Rickon was very confused as to who this person was.

"Being undead gives one certain abilities." He cracked a small comforting smile to Rickon as he kept his distance.

"This our uncle Benjen." Bran informed. "He's been beyond the Wall fighting against the dead as best he can."

"Uncle Benjen?" Rickon couldn't remember ever meeting him before now, but he did see some resemblance to their father.

"I saw you once at the feast Ned held for Robert Baratheon, though you were too young to remember. Jon left with me to join the Watch."

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right. There's nothing to be sorry about." Rickon's eyes turned to the horse and at the object over the saddle. "What's under the cloak?"

"Best you not know yet." The trees suddenly began to shudder and a great wind blew through the branches. The ground shook a moment later as the winds calmed down and a familiar screech was heard.

"He's here." Bran informed before he suddenly vanished, leaving Rickon with Benjen.

"Why is Rhaegal here?"

Benjen chuckled a small bit as he untied the reigns of his horse and guided it through the trees. "You're full of curiosity, aren't you?"

"Much has been happening on both sides of the Wall." Rickon informed as he walked with his uncle.

"Like what? Bran never visits me and I've been here for near seven years. I know Ned was murdered, I already knew about Jon since he was a boy, and the world's practically gone to shit. But we're short on time, so give me the short version."

"After father was murdered by Joffrey because he found out father knew he was a bastard, Robb called the banners and went to war, so did Renly and Stannis Baratheon, and Balon Grejoy after Theon betrayed us. Bran and I fled Winterfell and I stayed south while Bran went north."

"I rescued him from the dead after his training with Brynden."

"Who?"

"Another story for another time, continue."

"I traveled to the Last Hearth to seek help from the Umbers, but Smalljon betrayed me and gave me to Boltons. It was then I learned that Robb and mother were betrayed by the Boltons and the Freys and murdered."

"Robb's dead? What about your sisters?"

"Sansa's at Winterfell and Arya's in the Riverlands to save aunt Roslin and cousin Steffon from the Lannisters. Once she does, we'll have the Riverlands loyal to us."

That news was relieving to Benjen as the left the woods and entered a clearing were Bran and Rhaegal were waiting for them. "This is where I leave you for now."

"You're not flying with Rhaegal?"

"Bran's using as much influence as he can to keep that dragon from burning me to ash. I'll be heading to Eastwatch after this. Now that every Wildling North of the Wall is turned, the Main army will be meeting with the reserves far to the north on their way to the Wall." Benjen stopped his horse and pulled the object off onto his shoulders and carried it to Rhaegal.

"The reserves?"

"What Jon and his companions saw was the bulk of the Army of the Dead. After their skirmish, there's about a hundred fifty thousand foot soldiers left. But that's not the entire army. Theirs another seventy thousand in the Lands of Always Winter marching south."

Rickon was speechless. Not only was there an undead dragon, but now there would be over two hundred thousand of the undead coming for them all. Benjen casually climbed onto Rhaegal and placed what he carried on the dragon's neck before tying it down with a long rope. When he was done, he hopped down and Rhaegal growled fiercely at him before taking to the skies. He walked back to his horse and looked over to Rickon. "We'll see each other again, nephew. Maybe when the war's over and the True North is free of the dead, I'll show you some of the beauty this land has to offer."

Before Rickon could say anything, Bran placed his hand on Rickon's shoulder and brought them back to Winterfell. Rickon let go of Bran and took a minute to rest against the weirwood. "What was that he tied to the dragon?"

"Jon's body." Bran said bluntly. "Benjen managed to rescue Jon from the wights after the dragons left, but the cold took him afterwards. He's being brought back to us."

Rickon had a moment of hope, but Bran's knowledge shattered it instantly. "We'll bury him in the crypts next to aunt Lyanna."

"No we won't. Someone's coming to help him."

"How can anyone help him? He's dead."

"Didn't he ever tell you how he was released from the Night's Watch?"

Rickon suddenly realized he never asked Jon about that, neither did Sansa or Arya. In fact he was sure no one did. "What happened?"

* * *

Brienne

The news of Arya leaving left Brienne upset. She went north to keep her safe in Winterfell and days later, she leaves to go into just as much danger. However, given the current situation and the events that transpired, now wasn't the time to brood over such things. Everyone was in need of time to mourn the loss of their king.

Brienne had finally changed out of her heavy furs and into a thick tunic and cloak. Her armor was still at Eastwatch and a raven was already sent to have Ser Davos return with everyone's gear. It did not however, contain the news of the dragon and the king's demise. Such news would be better said in person.

The only thing to help push through the situation was to train with Pod. Unfortunately for him, Brienne had been venting her anger into her swordplay. They didn't even spar for ten minutes before Pod begged for a break.

While he sat against a railing, Brienne just leaned against her sparring sword. She became shocked as Pod removed his glove and revealed a nasty bruise below his wrist. "Podrick I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit so hard."

"It's alright, milady. Arya Stark said every injury is lesson."

"You've been practicing with Arya?"

"Whenever I could, though she didn't hold back as much."

The two of them were joined by the Hound who was carrying a sparring sword. "Have you come for a rematch Clegane?" Brienne asked casually.

"Fuck off." He spat. "Beric's speaking with the Stark girl and your Wildling lover is off moping like a lost little boy somewhere."

"He's not my lover!"

"Tell that to him. He wouldn't shut up about you the whole journey north."

"I know, I heard everything he said." She said harshly.

"Then are you gonna tell his fantasies about you or are you gonna show me some steel?" Brienne approached him quickly with her sword ready for combat. She swung high and was immediately blocked by Sandor. Already she could tell that his strength was greater than when they first fought. But her advantage was a small limp he had in his right leg.

She pressed forward putting on the defense, but he knew better than to let something like a limping leg get the better of him. What Brienne saw as an opening turned out to be a trap and as she fell into it, the Hound swept his foot underneath Brienne's leg and toppled her to the ground. Before she could even try to get up, the end of Sandor's sword was at her neck.

Not willing to give up just yet, Brienne slid her head to the side and grabbed the blade with her free hand and held tightly to it. She pulled the Hound forward and used her legs to flip him over her onto the ground. She sprawled up to her knees and held her sword against his neck, any movement and a real sword would cut a vital artery. "You're stronger, but not smarter," Brienne told him.

"No shit. You don't have to be smart to kill, just strong." Brienne stood up to her feet and offered her hand to him. He was hesitant, but he accepted her offer none the less.

Before they could have another match, a hound blasted that meant someone or something significant was approaching the gates. Brienne, Sandor, and Podrick left the training yard to go see what was going on. Through the gates, a familiar woman clad in red robes not suited for winter rode in on horseback followed by an escort of four men in very extravagant armor with a fire theme. Their faces all had tattoos of flames across their cheeks. She dismounted as Lord Tyrion and Lord Varys walked to meet her.

"Lady Melisandre," Lord Varys said, "I didn't expect you to return."

"I told you before Spider, I would return to the North and I would die in the North, just as you will."

"Luckily, Davos Seaworth isn't here yet. He's on his way back from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea and he won't be here for at least a fortnight."

"I know. I had a vision in the flames that now is the time for me to return. Is the King here? I have business with him."

"My lady," Tyrion said softly, "the King died beyond the Wall during a hunt for the dead."

Melisandre closed her eyes and took a deep breathe, trying to remain calm. She did her best not to look affected by this news. "May I be granted an audience with the Queen? I come with the offer of help for the war."

"I'm afraid the queen has shut herself in her room for the time being. The only one she'll see is her advisor, Missandei."

"Do you know her?" Sandor asked Brienne.

"I met her at Castle Black when I brought Sansa there. She was an advisor to the King before he banished her."

"Let me guess, she did something for the Lord of Light."

"She burned Shireen Baratheon at the stake."

"I've killed children before," Sandor admitted, "never got banished for it. I was always rewarded for it."

Varys and Tyrion led Melisandre and her escort inside the castle while everyone else went about their business.

* * *

Evening fell and the skies grew clear for once. Such a thing was rare in the North during the winter and the colors of twilight danced among the clouds far in the horizon. Brienne decided to take a shift on the battlements on watch duty. Her anger was gone, but now she felt she needed to calm down, and the view of the North was always beautiful to look at. The sky began to twinkle in the east as stars began to sprout. The would be no moon tonight and Brienne was looking forward to the view of the night sky.

Brienne was looking over the eastern wall to what lied beyond, barely seeing the fires of camps in the distance. She as well as many others were informed that there was an army of near a thousand men from Essos that came to fight alongside everyone against the dead. Supposedly, the had the magic to ignite their weapons in fire just as Beric Dondarrion could.

As she kept her gaze on the fires, checking for any suspicious movements, she noticed out of the corner of her eye a blackened figure in the sky coming from the north. She turned he gaze and could barely make out the shape. It was the green dragon returning from his journey. As she kept her eyes on him as he got closer to the castle, flying low to the ground, she saw something fall of the dragon's back in into the snow-covered fields of Winterfell. The dragon didn't seem to notice as he flew over the castle to join his brother and the other dragons. Curious to see what it was, she left her post to investigate.

As she exited to the gates followed by a pair of guards, she kept her eyes on the location where the object fell. In the white of the snow, she could see a blackened figure moving. Brienne picked up her pace and started to run at whatever it was. As she got closer, she could identify a Night's Watch cloak attached to the wearer who was buried in the snow. She dug through the snow and saw the face of who wore the cloak. It was Jon, he was alive. "Your grace!" She turned to the guards who were still a distance from her. "Get help! The King is alive!" Jon lifted a hand onto her shoulder to steady himself. "It's alright your grace, your back home-" She was cut off abruptly when Jon's other hand shot around her neck and began to choke it tightly. She couldn't breathe and the tension began to hurt immensely. Brienne didn't understand why he would do something like this until he lifted his head up to her and revealed eyes that were bluer than ice.


	46. Tormund I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, lots of things happening this week. Christmas, my sisters birthday, then my own birthday. Lots to do and so little time to do it.

Tormund

News of the oncoming Clan Leaders from the Dreadfort worried Tormund. There were more than twenty thousand Free Folk and over sixty giants, of course there would be trouble. But of what kind was the concern. They were south finally, but they intended on remaining free. Jon had told him some of many laws of the North that would have to be followed and some of them were not pleasing to the Free Folk. Only Jon ever had the ability to convince them to do things they've never done whether they liked it or not and Tormund was always there to support him. But now he would have to handle things alone, and he had little faith in himself to do it since he too did not fully understand some of the restrictions.

Despite his willingness to try and handle things on his own, he knew he would need someone he trusted to support him. The only problem was, there wasn't anyone around he had much trust in. The Starks were friendly with him, but they didn't understand the Free Folk as Jon did and none of the other lords of the North had any care for the them, only tolerance. But it seems even that was fading away. However, this gave him the perfect opportunity to have a talk with the blonde beauty Brienne. Since he wasn't allowed to steal her, he would have to get to her the way southerners did, by bonding.

From what he was told, she had taken watch duty somewhere on the eastern battlements of the castle. He walked along them hoping to find her, but he was unsuccessful. Something that caught his attention was the dragon that he rode on, returning from its disappearance, flying over the castle. Tormund heard some commotion from the fields and looked out to them and saw Brienne and two of the guards with her. He could barely hear her shouting at them as she dug through the snow at someone wearing a crow's cloak. "Get help! The King is alive!"

Tormund became dumbstruck for a moment having to repeat what she said in his mind. She was digging out Jon from the snow. He immediately ran as fast as he could down from the battlements and to the gates. The two guards that were with Brienne met him and were both in as much shock as he was. "Wilding!" one said, "The King's returned! Help him in with the lady while we get the maester!"

"Get out of the way then!" He told them, but before any of them could do anything, they all heard a deafening screech Tormund hoped to never hear south of the Wall. "Fuck no," he said as he ran through the gates and stopped to see Brienne being choked by a blue-eyed demon that had stolen the face of Jon. "NO!" He ran as fast as he could at them, faster than he'd ever run away from the wights.  _'Damn you, damn you, damn you, GODS DAMN YOU!'_  When he got close enough, Tormund tackled Jon off of Brienne, letting out a howl and he plummeted into the snow and wrestled with him. Jon growled and screeched as they fought against one another.

They both got their feet and faced each other, Tormund not recognizing what stood before him. Jon was dressed in the fur boots and breeches he wore beyond the Wall, but his chest and arms were bare, revealing the scares of his first death. He let out another inhuman screech as he charged forward. He didn't have Longclaw at his side, so Tormund had no reason to draw his sword. He easily stepped to the side and slammed his arm against Jon's head, knocking him into the snow. The cloak he wore slid off from Jon's body and into the snow. But Jon's speed was great and his movements were like a wild animal. He got back up to his feet quickly and grabbed hold of Tormund. With an unnatural strength, Jon threw Tormund behind him into the snow and run at him again. Jon jumped into the air as Tormund got to his knees and was brought back down.

Within an instant of being tackled, Jon sank his teeth onto Tormund's left ear and ripped it off. Tormund yelled as he threw Jon off his body and ignored the injury. What he didn't notice was that Jon managed to steal his sword from him. Jon slashed as fast as he could and Tormund could only dodge, but the snow they were in was deep enough to slow him down. Jon managed to land a nasty cut across Tormund's right cheek, just barely getting his nose. Tormund rushed to Jon and grabbed the wrist that held the sword with one hand and grabbed Jon's neck with the other to keep his teeth away.

From behind Tormund, Brienne rushed to Jon and pried Tormund's blade from Jon's fingers and tossed it far away. She got behind Jon and wrapped her arms around Jon's and locked her hands behind Jon's back. Jon kicked and squirmed violently before throwing his head back and slamming it into Brienne's nose. She failed to dodge the blow, but even as the blood poured from her nose, she wouldn't let go.

Several guards finally arrived before things got worse. One of them was smart enough to bring a rope and began to bind Jon's legs while the others just stood with their swords drawn at the ready. "Drop your fuckin weapons!" Tormund ordered. They all looked at him questioningly, not obeying. Tormund looked at each of them directly. "If you don't, I'll do to you what I did to that Umber cunt when we fought the Bolton bastard." Everyone frightfully sheathed their swords as Jon's hands were finally tied and he became incapacitated. He had enough damaged done to his body, he didn't need any more scars. The guard who bound Jon picked up his feet, struggling to keep his grip as Jon wriggled constantly. "Take him to the courtyard. The people need to see this."

"Are you sure?" Brienne asked, surprised he would suggest such a thing. "Cover his chest at least, they don't need to see the wounds the dead gave him."

"Yes, they do." He looked at her fully composed of seriousness for the first time.

"Why?"

"Because the dead didn't give him those, the Night's Watch did." Tormund picked up the cloak and folded it under his arm as he led everyone back to the castle, Jon continuing to growl and squirm. The moment they entered the gates, everyone in the castle within eyesight turned their eyes and immediately stopped what they were doing, horrified at what they saw. Tormund stopped in the middle of the courtyard and waited for as many people gather around. On the balconies, Tormund saw Sansa and Rickon Stark with the Queen, Jorah Mormont, the Tarly crow, and the foreign lady. At the front of the crowd around him, the Lannister Dwarf, his bald friend, and the Hound pushed their way through and gazed at their King. Tormund didn't say anything, he just let everyone take in what was before them.

Finally, he gestured his hand to Jon. "Do you see this?" He spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "The Night King did this! His magic defiled your King after death!" He then pointed his finger at the scars on Jon's chest. "But these, these were given to him by his so-called brother crows. They did this to him after he let us Wildlings through the Wall! He died once for doing the right thing! And he died again to make sure every one of you southerners would finally realize that the things you still believe to be stories are in fact a living nightmare!" Tormund reached inside of his furs on his chest and pulled out a dragonglass dagger he kept with him at all times. "No one should have to suffer this, especially not a great man like him!" He looked up to the Dragon Queen, mentally asking for permission to free Jon from this condition. Tears were already on her cheeks, but she kept her emotions to herself. She nodded ever so slightly to him.

Tormund raised his dagger high, but as he brought it down, someone called out to him. "Stop!" The tip of the dagger was mere inches away from Jon's heart before Tormund stopped. He looked to who shouted and saw the Red Woman walking through the crowd as people parted ways for her. She was followed by her escort and the Brotherhood men.

She walked up to Jon's bound body and he seemed to turn his attention towards her, trying to bite at her. "If you break the spell with that dagger, then he will be lost to us forever." She kept her gaze on his eye's mesmerized at the color.

"You brought him once, you can do it again." Tormund said confidently.

"The fire within him hasn't gone out yet, it is only embers. He still has time before they fade into the darkness, but if you use that dagger, the effects will only quicken his fate."

"Then how do you plan to bring him back?"

At this point, Daenerys had walked down the balcony and up to the Red Woman. "You can save him?" She asked desperately.

The Red Woman looked at Daenerys knowing she already knew the answer. "I brought him back once, but this is different. He is dead, but the Night King's magic has turned death into a cage around the fire within him. We can't break it down or open the door. It has to melt from the inside out."

"How?"

"You already know the price for such a thing. Only death can pay for life."

Daenerys clasped at her belly were her babies within her were growing. "I can't give up their lives. I won't." She began to look fearful of the Red Woman. "Jon would never forgive me again if I sacrificed his children's lives for his."

The Red Woman smiled at her, remaining calm. "You have nothing to be afraid of, my Queen. The payment shall be given, but it won't be you or your children that suffer such a fate." She turned her gaze to Brienne. "If you could, take him back to the fields, but farther out."

Brienne looked over to Daenerys, not sure if she should obey. The Queen looked at her and nodded. Brienne and the guard both adjusted their grips before walking back the way they came through the gates, the Red Woman following closely. Only a few followed them out to the fields of snow, Tormund, Daenerys, Jorah, Tyrion, and the bald man. Everyone else climbed to the battlements and looked over the walls or stuck close to the castle gates.

"Lady Melisandre," the bald man called out. She stopped and turned to face him as he approached her while, Brienne and the guard continued to carry Jon out into the snow. "I have never been a believer of gods, and I believe those that preach of them even less. Yet why is it that I have faith in you?"

"Ever since a mistake I made long ago, I've been careful about what I do. I follow visions, but I wait for the answers rather than guess them. I saw that my purpose was here, and now here I am, to fulfill my duty and my punishment."

"Then I assume that this is goodbye."

She simply smiled at him. "It's never truly goodbye. We may see each other again one day."

He bowed his head to her, looking at ease. "Then if that's the case, I shall not say it."

She turned back and began to return to the ones who carried Jon, but hesitated after a few steps. "Do you remember the name you heard in the flames?" She didn't even turn her head when she asked.

"I never forget a thing."

"The one who it belongs to is coming, make sure she hears it." She resumed to walk to Jon's body. The bald man remained behind with the dwarf, but Tormund continued to follow with Daenerys and Jorah.

"That's far enough!" Melisandre called out to Brienne and the guard as they stopped at a thin layer of snow. Melisandre turned to Daenerys and everyone who followed. "This is as far as you go." She took Daenerys's hand and held it softly. "Have no fear my Queen, for dragons do not fear the power of gods." She released her hand and walked to where Jon was being kept which was only about forty paces away from them.

Tormund and the others could barely hear what she was saying from where they were. "Set him down and go be with the others." Brienne and the guard followed her instructions and laid Jon in the snow. He struggled constantly to be free, but to no avail. Melisandre waited for Brienne and the guard to be next to everyone before looking out to the castle. A moment later, the winds began to blow, but the force wasn't natural. From behind, all four of the dragons flew to the field and landed in the snow, surrounding Melisandre and Jon. She knelt down to him and began to say her prayer that was near a whisper, but was heard by all by some mysterious power.

"Lord of Light, come to us in our darkness. The light within him fades and must be returned. Guide him through the shadows and back into life." She placed a hand over his check and Jon suddenly held still. "Baptize him in fire that his embers may become an inferno to battle against the ice. Baptize him in heat that he may warm those he protects against the colds of winter. Baptize him in light that he may lead his people out of the darkness and into the dawn. For the night is dark and full of terrors."

The brotherhood and the escort repeated Melisandre's final words in a chorus. Without given any form of order, all four of the dragons pulled their necks back before unleashing a fury of fire from their mouths. The flames consumed Jon and Melisandre and the after a second of burning, the fires turned from yellow and orange to a crimson red. Melisandre could barely be seen with her eyes closed and smiling before she turned she was turned into sparks that glided away from the flames and into the sky. Jon's bounds broke and he stood up, screeching as the fire continued to surround him but unaffected his body. He looked directly up to the sky as his voice echoed all the way to the castle.

Moments later, his screeching began to morph into shouts of pain that were made by the living. He fell to his hands and knees right before the fire stopped. The snow around Jon had melted, but the grass beneath it was untouched. The dragons began to growl nervously as Jon slowly stood up. He looked at those who watched him, the cold blue of his eyes gone and the brown returned. The dragons all screeched loudly into the sky, sounding victorious.

Jon began to breathe deeply as he started to walk forward, but after only taking three steps, he collapsed onto his front and didn't get back up. Tormund wanted to rush after him, but the heat radiating from where Jon had just been was still too much. The only one who could go after him was Daenerys and she did so, quickly. She knelt down to him and turned him over, resting his head on her lap before breaking down in tears, but she was happy and he was alive.

The heat suddenly vanished, allowing for everyone else to assist the King and Queen. Tormund slid to his knees as he got next to Jon and Daenerys, looking at his condition. He looked alright, in fact he looked like he was only sleeping. "Let's get him inside." Tormund suggested before a hand firmly grasped his shoulder.

"We'll take him inside," Beric said, "you and Lady Brienne get your wounds looked at. Your still stained with your own blood." He moved past Tormund and knelt down to Daenerys's lap. "Forgive me, your grace." He said as he slid his arms underneath Jon's back and lifted him up at his shoulders. Anguy lifted Jon's legs and they began to walk back to the castle. As Brienne helped Daenerys up, Tormund took the cloak from under his arm and quickly wrapped it over Jon's body.

"We don't need the entire North to see their King's pecker." He earned the amused smiles of the brotherhood and even Daenerys. The dragons behind them waited until they were a good distance away before spreading their wings and flying back to their nesting area on the other side of the castle.

* * *

While Jon was being examined by Maester Wolkan in his solar, Tormund and Brienne were being looked at by the Tarly crow. The lad did a fine job of cleaning their wounds and stitching Tormund's check. He was currently examining Brienne's nose while Tormund sat down with a cold wet clothe pressed to his head where he was missing an ear.

"Alright," Tarly said as he positioned himself infront of Brienne with his hands near her head, "I'm afraid this may hurt more than you'd like."

"Just do what you need to." Brienne told him.

The Tarly boy carefully placed his hands onto Brienne's cheeks and positioned his thumbs on her nose. "One quick question, is that sword Valyrian steel?" his eyes looked down to the golden hilted sword strapped on Brienne's hip.

"It's called Oathkee-" the Tarly boy pushed her nose back into place and after a quiet pop sounded, a loud roar followed as Brienne fell forward grasping at her nose. "Fuck that hurt!"

"More than you'd like?" He gave her an innocent look as she glared at him. She starting to laugh at him after the pain began to fade.

"Yes, it did."

Tarly smiled at her as he set a bloodied rag into a water basin. "It looks like you also have some bruises around your neck. I'll get some ointment that will help heal them quicker." He left Tormund and Brienne and the two of them were alone together in the room.

There was a long awkward silence that lasted longer then it should have. It felt like Tarly was taking his sweet time. "It was a brave thing you would've done." Brienne said openly.

"What?"

"Choosing to use the dragonglass to free Jon from being an undead soldier. I don't think there would be many who knew him well who could do it."

"No one should be one those things. I've lost friends and family to the Walkers, and I've had to kill them all the same before they could turn me into what they'd become." He looked directly at her. "I expect anyone who considers me a friend to do the same if I turn. I won't become a slave to the fucking Night King."

For the first time, Brienne didn't look uncomfortable by Tormund's presence. "Then promise me you'll do the same if that happens to me."

"I promise."


	47. Arya IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year to all

Arya

The morning sun rose with a beautiful light, a kind of which was never seen before. Instead of the silver blue followed by the pale gold, the morning was like molten gold and amber. The clouds erupted like fire, setting the sky ablaze in a pinkish red. There was color present that no one could have ever imagined existed.

Riverrun castle might as well have been home to nothing but Lannister soldiers. There were only three Tully soldiers among four hundred wearing Lannister red. The three who did live in the castle were the commanding officers, kept prisoner with freedom to walk about the grounds at will. But even then, they had no care for the activities the Lannisters around them did. In fact, hardly anyone gave second look to anyone which made getting inside the castle more than easy for Trysten Hills. With a new set of stolen armor and a red cloak, walking into the castle without trouble was the easiest thing so far about this entire task.

Making his way through the hallways, Trysten used these moments to scout the layout and listen to whispers about anything that would be of use to make things easier. The things he heard as he passed men sneaking quick meals in the hallways and sparring in the yard were very interesting.

"I heard Lady Tully singing to her son from outside her chambers last night. Only time I ever heard her my whole stay here."

"One of the Lady's cooks died of fever last week. Good thing he did, the new one's a lot better."

"I saw the Frey woman sitting on her windowsill one night, can't believe she's related to Walder."

"Do you think if we declare for the imp in the North he'll let us go home?"

"Gotta feel bad for the woman and the boy. They've been locked in that room for months without a day to walk about. The Commanders a bit of an ass if you ask me."

"We got a raven from the Twins about some a deserter saying a girl killed some soldiers. Hope it was Orlic and his troupe, fuckin hated them."

"Raven from King's Landing came today. Wish the Commander would let us send a few of our own for once."

Trysten had all he needed to know what to do. Commander Kamren Lefford was practically the only one who ever received any news from Kings Landing. His orders were absolute in the Riverlands. If he were to say the Queen ordered the men to leave, then they would obey. Though there were some to maybe many of whom were considering the option of serving Tyrion Lannister who they were convinced was on the winning side. Maybe when the time came, this could be exploited to get them to change their thoughts into action. The North was in need of more men to fight against the dead anyway.

Trysten would figure out what to do as Commander Lefford once the time came, but for now he had to figure out when the time to strike would be and how. The Commander was constantly busy and never alone. More than one person would probably have to die with him. Unfortunately, there was no more poison left over from Trysten's demise. Then there was the problem with time. The Lannister armor took a while to take off and just as long to put on. With how busy the Commander was, there wasn't a frame of time that Trysten could make the switch. Night was the best possible chance when everyone was asleep, but even then, the Commander shared a room with four others who happened to be lieutenants and their absence would be questioned. So that route was to be avoided.

The only option left would be when the Commander had his visits with Roslin to deliver any ravens scrolls from the Twins or if she had any requests. If she would keep quiet about a death in her room, then things would be easy, except for the part about getting into the room. The only ones aloud to enter were the handmaidens, the wet-nurses, the Commander, and a select few servants, all of whom except the Commander were escorted by guards and under surveillance. The room itself only had one door, but it also had two windows that someone small enough could fit through. Trysten was certainly too large for such a task, but Arya Stark was not.

* * *

The Faceless Men specialized in hiding in plain sight, but such a thing was impossible with how much activity happened and the lack of time Arya had at her disposal. She was forced to keep to the shadows. Armed with Needle and the Valyrian dagger, the rest of her things were hidden away near some trees not far from the castle. She kept herself dressed in only her tunic, riding breeches, and boots.

Commander Lefford was due to deliver a raven scroll to Roslin very soon and Arya had to be there to meet him. She never possessed Bran's climbing skills that he once had, but the tower that held Rolsin's chambers was worn out enough that almost anyone her size could ascend it. As Trysten, she saw the best route that was in the path of a blind spot where no one would be able to see her.

After a guard walked his pass on one of the castle battlements, Arya came out of the shadows and climbed onto the ledge. She lowered herself to the outside of the wall and carefully moved across the stone. There were small enough gaps in various places of the brick work and some of the stone was out of place enough to grab ahold. Bran always made it look easy, but the strength needed for such a thing was more than Arya expected. She took her time to get the best grip as she climbed up the tower to one of the windows. One wrong move and she would slip and fall into the cold river and be swept away by the swift current.

Arya finally managed to get a grip onto the edge of the window and pull herself up. When she managed to get her head up to look inside, she became surprised at the quality of the room. She expected it to only be simple and have few luxuries, but inside was more decorated than the room she had in the Red Keep. Roslin was sitting on her bed facing away from her while Steffon played with some toy knights on the floor in front of her.

Arya crept through the window silently and caught the attention of Steffon. He pointed at her before Roslin turned around and gasped. Arya had never seen Roslin before and was surprised at what she looked like. She was very pretty with a mousy face and no one would think her to be a Frey. She took a few steps back and pulled her son to her, keeping caution to her intruder. Arya held her arms up, revealing she wasn't currently armed and kept her distance. "Lady Roslin, I'm not here to harm you."

"Who are you?" She asked fearfully.

"Someone who you can trust to help you." Outside the door, noises could be heard and Arya could tell that Commander Lefford was coming. Arya reached behind her back and drew her dagger, walking to the side of the door that would swing to her. She looked over to Roslin and held her finger to her lips signaling for silence. Arya nearly forgot that Roslin had a three-year-old clinging to her side. "Cover his eyes." Roslin turned her son around and kept his face on her dress.

The door opened and in walked Commander Kamren Lefford who closed the door behind him. "Lady Tully, a raven from the Twins arrived…"

Arya silently crept up behind him, but the reactions of Roslin and Steffon gave away Arya's position. When she held up the dagger to strike at his neck, Commander Lefford swung his arm behind him as he twisted his body, knocking Arya to the side on the ground. "Guards!" He called out as he drew his sword. Arya got back to her feet as three other Lannister soldiers entered the room with their swords drawn.

"Oh, damn it all." She quickly sheathed the dagger and switched to using Needlle. Keeping her thoughts calm like the river, she took her stance and waited for the guards to make the first move.

"Take her alive," Lefford ordered. The three guards started to slowly approach Arya, all of them keeping their free hands in front of them to block or parry whatever Arya had to give to them. The one on the left stepped forward and swung his sword at Arya in hopes to catch her off guard, but Arya easily ducked under the sword and moved forward to him, planting Needle up into his chin and retracting it out within mere seconds. His body fell to the floor, Roslin gasped and pulled Stefforn into the corner of the room.

The other two charged at her at the same time. She was able to parry a strike withNeedle and another by quickly drawing the dagger with her free hand. Lefford joined in the fight and his skill was far better than his men, almost as good as Brienne's. The only reason she didn't beat him yet was because there were two others she had to deal with.

With the dagger in her right hand, Arya managed to land a strike on one of the guards on the hand that held his sword. All of his fingers except his thumb were cut off. He fell backwards, grunting and clenching at his wounds and he bled. Arya ducked under a sword strike and to gain an advantage and stabbed the last guard in his knee with Needle. He screamed out as the blade twisted deep and blood began to spill out.

Unforeseen by Arya, the guard grabbed onto her arm and prevented her from escaping. Before she could attack him with the dagger Commander Lefford swung his sword down at Arya. Using all her strength she pulled back and Lefford's sword cut through the of his guard, but the power of the swing was great enough that it also cut through needle and broke the blade juat two inches above the guard.

Arya fell onto he back and dropped what was left of Needle as the guard screamed out at his newly made stump of an arm. Before she could get up, Lefford thrusted his sword down at her. Arya parried it wit hthe dagger, but she didn't see that Lefford had drawn his own . He stabbed it down at her, and she had nothing to protect herself with. She couldn't allow herself to die, so she raised her arm and caught the blade. It pierced through her forearm between her bone, but with it stuck there she was able to move it out of the way. She gritted her teeth and wanted to scream out, but she did her best to hold it in. Without hesitating, Arya swung the valyrian dagger up at Commander Lefford and slashed him across his arm. The pain was enough for him to let go of his knife and back away from her.

As Arya scrambled to her feet, she foolishly dropped her dagger to look at the one in her arm.

Before she could pulled it out, Lefford was already back on his feet and out of breath and three more guards entered. "Get these two to the maester, and put her in a cell." Before anyone could do anything, Arya darted for the window and without even thinking, leapt out of the tower.

The instant her body impacted against the icy cold water, she was washed over with feeling of self-loathing, frustration, and embarrassment.  _'How could I have fucked up so badly?'_

When she surfaced out of the water, she struggled to stay afloat as the pain in her arm continued and the cold temperatures made her desperate to breathe as much a she could. As the castle grew smaller in the distance, bells could be heard signaling that there was a break in. Arya didn't get far before a party of riders exited Riverrun and turned downstream to Arya's direction. Putting all thoughts aside and only focusing on surviving, Arya did her best to swim the side of the river that was polluted with many trees and away from the riders.

As Arya climbed out of the water, her wound stung greatly as snow and mud touched the impaled flesh. She did her best to contain the pain within herself before an arrow shot into a tree next to her. She started to run as quick as she could through the woods before her, losing sight of the riders within seconds. Though her pace was slow and her body wouldn't stop shivering, she kept moving and wouldn't allow herself to stop.

* * *

It wasn't even an hour and Arya had become lost in her escape. Though the skies were clear and the sun gave heat, the air around the land was cold and would bite at any opportunity. Arya wanted to take the blade out, but if she did then she would start to bleed more than she already was. She was currently in the middle of attempting to get her bearings. She had to find someplace to hide, or someone to help her. Maybe some Tully soldiers were nearby.

She kept walking past the trees, the forest at this point was more open. As she slowly trudged through the snow, she could hear a noise in the distance. It was the sound of horses galloping. Arya scanned through the trees and saw riders wearing red in the distance behind her. She picked up her pace, but the deepness of the snow tripped her and she couldn't get up. She was so cold that her arm had numbed and she no longer felt the pain of the dagger, but she knew that her injury was worsening.

Moments later, she was pulled out from the snow and sat up by the Lannister soldiers. "Is she the one?" One of them asked.

"There's a dagger in her arm, of course it's her." Another confirmed. "Best leave the knife in her or she might bleed to death. Don't want that to happen yet."

She was picked up and sat against a tree. In front of her, kneeling down, was Commander Lefford and he was joined by fifteen Lannister soldiers. "I heard from some of my men that three Red Cloaks were killed by a girl on their way to the Twins. Was that you?"

There was no point in denying it now. Arya gave what passed for a nod. "T-t-they attacked m-me and I-I defended myself-f." She couldn't contain her shivering and she wasn't getting any warmer. The horses started to whine and grow restless as Commander Lefford looked legitimately impressed with her.

"That doesn't explain what you were doin in the Lady Tully's chambers."

"To k-k-kill her." Arya had to make up something believable. If they knew she was there to rescue Roslin, then they would punish her or Steffon. "S-s-she's the r-r-reason my family died at-t the Twins."

"Oh, the Red Wedding?" Lefford asked. Arya nodded simply and could feel her face going numb. "Makes sense. Lots of people in the Riverlands hate the Freys for what they did. But then again, it was the boy they called king who broke his vows just to fuck that foriegn slut." Lefford reached behind his back and revealed the Valyrian dagger. "Now I would've believed ya had I not found this left in the tower. Where'd you get this?"

"Stole it."

"Liar," he spat, "no one let's Valyrian steel get stolen from them." The horses began to jerked around and some of their riders lost their grips on the reigns. "What in seven hells the matter?" Lefford stood up and inspected the horses with his men. From around them amongst the trees, noises of twigs snapping and creatures running could be heard.

Moments later, snarling and growls became apparent and the men became scared, some even drawing their swords. In the corner of Arya's eye, she saw movements passed the trees beyond. Suddenly, wild barks were made and wolves appeared from the trees in packs, attacking the Lannister men. The ones who hadn't drawn their weapons were the first to suffer and die of mauling in the throat. There was catastrophe and chaos among the remaining soldiers and some even tried to flee, but the horses were too riled up to let anyone ride them.

One of the wolves was struck by a sword and impaled afterwords. It whined as the guard drew his blade from the wolf's belly, but he would not be boasting of the deed any time soon. A large white wolf dove on top of the guard and bit as his neck. With a small tug, the white wolf ripped the man's head clean off. The wolf turned to Arya and revealed his ruby red eyes. "Ghost," Arya croaked. His attention was fixated on her while one of the remaining soldiers tried to attack from behind, but another large wolf leapt from out of nowhere and tore the soldier's arm off and continued to kill.

Screams filled the air as at least two dozen wolves were ripping the soldiers from limb to limb. It only took minutes for the snows to turn red and all of the men who wore red were lying dead in pieces. All of the fur of the wolves had many stained of red from their mouths to their paws. They surrounded Arya and became tame as Ghost slowly approached her with Nymeria next to him. "Hello girl." Nymeria eyes looked at Arya's arm and she began to whimper quietly. Arya just smiled at her. "I made a mistake." Arya looked over to Ghost, glad to see him just as much as her direwolf. "You should head home Ghost. Rickon misses you." Ghost just stared at her blankly like he would to everyone except Jon.

Arya did her best to stand up, but she was still very weak and need rest, but with what's happened she didn't have the time for that. She scanned over the dead bodies and saw what remained of Commander Lefford. She limped past the wolves and fell to her knees when she reached his body. Both of his arms wore torn off as was his neck.

The Valyrian dagger rested in red snow next to Lefford's hip. Arya picked it up and immediately began to traced the blade in an outline of Lefford's face.

* * *

When Lefford first put on his face, the sensation was different. The pain in his arm was gone and he was no longer cold. The makeshift bandage he made was stained with blood, but it ceased being soaked by it. The wolves around him stepped back, afraid of what they just witnessed. Nymeria and Ghost however still knew that the man before them was the girl they knew. Lefford still felt weak, but he immediately began to undress from the clothes of a girl and salvaged what he could from the faceless body and a few others.

In about an hour, Lefford managed to piece together some clothes and armor that were free of any blood and damage. He strapped his sword belt around his waist and turned to the direwolves. He walked over them and brushed through the fur atop their heads. "Thank you," he said before turning back and approaching a horse that didn't escape. As he mounted it, Ghost had already darted back the way he came, but Nymeria and her pack remained where they were. Lefford took one last look at them before spurring the horse down a trail nearby in the direction of Riverrun.

Within minutes the castle already came back into sight. A horn sounded and the drawbridge was lowered down as he got closer to the entrance. Inside, a younger soldier took the reigns of his horse as he dismounted and guided it back to the stables as other men approached him. "Commander, did you find the girl?"

"Where're the others?"

"What happened?"

"Quite!" Lefford shouted. "Seven hells, give me moment to say something, you cunts!" The men quieted down enough for Lefford to not have to shout. "Now then, I'm afraid that we found the girl, but she froze to death before we could question her. Not moments later, we were all set upon by a huge pack of wolves, and two of them were big fuckers, nearly big as horses they were. I managed to escape, but I'm not sure how many others did as well. We'll keep our eyes out on the way."

"On the way to what?" Someone asked.

Lefford pulled out a scroll with a broken seal on it that bore the crest of the Lannister Lion. It was a complete fake, but no one even had to see its contents for Lefford to make up what was inside. "I received a raven this morning from Kings Landing before this whole shit storm happened, we're ordered by the queen to return to the Westerlands and wait for further instructions."

"We're going home?"

"Not all of us. The queen has order that a thousand men remain in the Riverlands to keep watch for anything suspicious or troubling. They'll be under the command of Lord Edmure Tully who's declared for the queen."

"She's giving the Riverlands away!" Someone complained.

"If any of you have any shit about this, you're free to ride down to the Red Keep and tell the queen that yourself, because I'm not gonna be hearin any of it. We have six days to pack up and leave, but I want every man in this castle ready in five." There were many groans and complaints heard all around. "Shut it you cunts! Or else I'll make it three days!" Everyone immediately left the courtyard to go do something that was productive except for the three lieutenants. They all joined Lefford in a walk to the castle.

"Commander," One of them said, "are you sure about this? With only a thousand men garrisoned here, we'll have no grip on the Tully's."

"This is only a ploy to confuse our enemies. With only a thousand men, The Riverlands and the Northern rebels will sieze the chance to attack. And once they do, we'll have them surrounded on all sides and wipe them out."

"We mean to sacrfice a thousand of our men?"

"No, we mean to sacrifice a thousand traitors."

"Traitors?" Another lieutenant asked.

"Come now, haven't you heard the faint whispers of our men turning their cloaks to the imp? Such disloyalty will not go unpunished." That was the best thing Lefford could think of to root out the soldiers considering loyalty to Tyrion Lannister and securing more men foir the wars to come.

The ieutenants looked at eachother bother nervously andseeing the logic in the tactics. "By your orders, commander." The three of them left as Lefford approached the doors to Roslin's chambers. He opened them and proceeded inside and found Roslin sitting next to a small bed, drinking a glass of wine. Steffon was asleep in the bed and there were also two handmaidens scrubbing the blood stains out of the floor. Roslin looked up to him, still shaken at what transpired.

"My lady, if we could speak alone for moment." She looked puzzled at him which told Lefford that his attitude towards her was not his usual. The handmaidens took the hint and left the room, closing the door behind them. Lefford walked over to an unoccupied chair at a table across the room and sat down in it, exhausted. "I have news of which I believe you'll be glad to hear. Your husband will be returning to Riverrun within a week's time from tomorrow. The Lannister forces will be returning to the Westerlands, save a garrison of one thousand."

This news shocked Roslin. She looked confused more than she'd ever been. "Commander Lefford, why?"

"Because I told everyone the queen ordered it, which she didn't. I just new that my men would listen to me since I'm their leader and they believed me when I told them the queen ordered it."

Roslin only looked more confused. "But, why?"

Lefford placed his right hand on his chin and grabbed his skin. He pulled up and returned to being Arya, causing Roslin to become wide eyed and mystified. Arya's arm felt a jolting pain, but she bore it in her. "You're not a Stark, but you are a Tully like my mother, and I will always fight to protect my family, even if yours killed her and my brother."

"You're-"

"Family," Arya cut off, "and if you want to keep it that way, then trust in me and you won't be kept a prisoner in this room for much longer." Arya placed the face back on her and became Lefford once again. "Winter is here, and a great evil is coming for us all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She did it! Let's give her a hand for her success!


	48. Daenerys X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you are unhappy with Arya's injury. but you can't say you didn't see this coming. If you don't remeber, start over and look for the hint.

Daenerys

Ever since Jon was brought back inside the castle and put to rest in their bed, Daenerys never left his side the whole time he slept. It had been a whole day and there was no change in him. His breathing was the same slow pace it had been the entire time and he looked peaceful as he slept. She laid next to on his right, keeping her arm over his chest feeling his heartbeat, praying that it would never stop. She felt the same way she did when before she smothered Drogo to end the illusion that was his life, but Daenerys would never let that happen again. She saw Jon walking out of the flames and she saw his eyes return to the brown color she fell in love with.

In all that time, anyone who had any business with Daenerys would have to come to her in her solar. Most of the time it was the lords of the North just paying their respects and well wishes to her and looking to see if their King really was alive or not. Some of the Dothraki that visited her had concerns about this, fearful of what they witnessed and what they knew about Drogo. Daenerys did her best to reassure them that this wasn't like what happened the first time.

The only person who never came to see her was Tyrion, and she understood why. He was blaming himself for Jon's current state, and Daenerys did have some anger towards him. It was his idea that lead to Jon and the others go beyond the Wall which led to the death of Viserion and Jon. But maybe their lives are what paid the price for the children inside her. And if it weren't for that, she never would have seen Jon as one of those things. She saw what they brought back to show Cersei, but seeing Jon as one of them was what made her change her mind about everything. She didn't care about the throne, or Cersei, or who ruled Westeros.

Daenerys sighed as she caressed Jon's beard with her fingers. It wasn't as thick as Daario's was, but she liked it this way. She ran her fingers down his neck and met his scar over his heart. It still hadn't healed and neither did any of his other scars. She sighed as she thought of everything they've gone through. Their lives almost ran parallel to each other.

All of the sudden, there was a knock on the door. "Come in." Daenerys sat up as the door opened and in walked Varys.

"Forgive me, your Grace. I hope I'm not intruding."

"No, it's quite alright. He's resting peacefully."

"I have news from my little birds about the Riverlands and in Kings Landing."

"Tell me about Kings Landing."

"Euron Greyjoy has finally appeared to the public and earned himself the name Iron Jaw."

"I take it the name explains why?"

"Indeed, your Grace. He has called off his marriage agreement with Cersei and fled to Essos. I have spies at every harbor waiting for the ships with krakens to appear."

"Now there's nothing to stand in our way in the sea." Daenerys thought carefully about her next move. "Do we know how many of the Golden Company hold Dragonstone?"

"Three thousand men and thirty elephants."

The numbers weren't a problem, but Daenerys didn't want to sacrifice more lives now that she's seen what would be coming. "I want you, Tyrion, Qhono, Lord Royce, and Lord Glover make plans to reclaim the island, but only make them, do not go through with them yet. If we can't come to a truce with Cersei, then we'll have to reclaim the dragonglass mines by force. We'll use the Ironborn, and some of the Dothraki in the Reach."

"At once, your Grace, however, there is one problem. Lord Tyrion has been ignoring most of those who approach him and has grown angry since he has been refused any wine, ale, or any and everything that could get him drunk."

Daenerys sighed, irritated and disappointed. "Could you please send for him."

"Of course, your Grace. Would you like to hear the news of the Riverlands now, or after your talk with him?"

"After." Varys bowed to her and left. Outside, Jorah took a step inside to close the door for him and resumed his guard. Daenerys got out of the bed and approached a table next to the hearth. She poured herself a tall glass of water, feeling parched. As she held the glass in her hand, she gazed into the fires of the hearth, contemplating everything happening and everything that could happen. If Cersei didn't agree to the armistice, then Daenerys would have no choice but to give up the kingdoms she's won to survive the coming storm. If her armies suffered heavy losses, then there could be the chance they wouldn't have the power to defeat Cersei afterwards.  _'No, we are going to destroy the Night King and his army.'_ She drank her water and tried to shake away any doubts she had about the future.

When Daenerys finished, there was a knock on the door. She sat down on a chair at the table and poured another glass of water for herself. "Come in."

The door opened and Tyrion walked in. He looked like a mess. His clothes had wine stains and his hair was ruffled. "You sent for me, your Grace." He sounded tired, like he had just woken up.

"Daenerys gestured to the other seat at the table. "Sit down."

Tyrion walked carefully as if he was already drunk and was keeping himself from tripping over his feet. He climbed onto the chair and Daenerys poured some water for him. "No thank you."

"If I wanted you to keep wasting away I would've had wine brought." Daenerys pushed the glass to the edge of the table in front of Tyrion.

"Is there something I can do for you?" He angrily took the glass and downed its contents, disappointed at what he drank.

"You resigned your position as Hand before I could accept."

"Then by all means, please." He slouched back in his chair, waiting for her response.

"I do not accept your resignation."

Tyrion look at all surprised, instead he just sighed and shook his head. "I've made too many mistakes ever since we returned to Westeros. I though I could predict Cersei's moves, but she's changed ever since I left. Because of my strategies, I lost Dorne, the Reach, and the Iron Islands. Because of you, we regained the Reach and because of Jon and Theon, we regain the Iron Islands and the Iron fleet. And after that, I sent your husband on a monster hunt and got not only him killed, but one of your dragons. As far as I can see, I've fucked up as a Hand more than Ned Stark did when he accepted his position." Tyrion sat up and poured himself more water, wishing that if he drank enough he would feel something.

"You are right about that. As far as I can tell, battle strategy and military planning isn't your forte. It's true that we gained hardly anything by taking Casterly Rock besides a strategic position. Olena may be gone, but we've cut off the food supplies to King's Landing. Ellaria is captured, but I've heard from Varys that thanks to you, it might not be for much longer." Tyrion stopped drinking his water and looked up at her, but didn't take any of what she said as positive reinforcement. "You made the plan to have a ranging party go beyond the Wall and capture a wight. You didn't order anyone to go, they volunteered."

"But Viserion and Jon-"

"Jon returned to me, like he promised he would." She looked over to him, still forever grateful he came back and for Melisandre's sacrifice. "If I didn't see what he became and learned what happened to Viserion, I wouldn't have known what it truly meant to be afraid of the Night King. Seeing the man I love in that kind of a form… I never want to see that happen to any of you." She turned her head back to Tyrion. "We have proof that the Night King exists, and thanks to you, we are ready to show the rest of the Kingdoms the truth. Your skills are with diplomacy and telling others that sometimes the impossible ideas aren't impossible, just idiotic to do and necessary."

There was a knock on the door and before Daenerys could answer, Jorah stepped inside. "Your grace," he said with concern, "The Wildling clan leaders are nearly here, but there's a problem."

"What is it?" She asked.

"They brought over ten thousand other Wildlings with them."

"What?"

"They haven't arrived yet. They're still about three miles before they get here."

Daenerys looked over to Tyrion who was just as concerned as she was. "Clean yourself up, and by the time they enter the gates, I want you standing next to me, presentable, and as the Hand of the Queen." She looked over to the nightstand that Tyrion placed his pin on earlier. It hadn't moved from it's position the entire time.

"Daenerys-" Tyrion was unable to object.

"Until the meeting with Cersei is over, you will remain as my Hand. Afterwards, I will accept your resignation should you still desire it."

He remained silent at her offer. He looked over to Jorah as if expecting some advice. "As you wish, your Grace." He got out of his sit and began to leave the room, but he first retrieved the pin from the nightstand.

"Ser Jorah, would you get Missandei for me?"

"Of course, Khaleesi." She liked that he would still call her that, but he only ever did it when no one else was around. Otherwise, it was always  _'your grace.'_

Feeling much better then she did yesterday, Daenerys wore a thick warm black dress and a cloak Sansa had mad for her that was similar to Jon's, except it had the Targaryen sigil instead of the Stark sigil. Before Daenerys made it outside with Jorah and Missandei, they were joined by Varys and Tyrion. "I thought they would be arriving in two days."

"We all did," Tyrion said, "but as we've just learned, the Wildlings travel faster through the snows than Northerners can."

"Makes sense," Jorah said, "there's never any summer north of the Wall." They all exited the interior of the castle and walked onto the balconies surrounding the courtyard. Several Wildlings were inside and the rest of them waited around the castle in the fields as they continued to appear on the roads. In the distance, at least fifty giants and their mammoths were marching with the Wildlings.

In the courtyard, Sansa, Rickon, and Tormund were already speaking with the Elders who arrived. Daenerys walked down the balcony stairs and approached the group. She caught the eyes of the elders as they all turned their attention to her. All but one of them had long beards and even though they were 'elders' most of them were middle aged. The one without a beard had no hair at all. Instead he had scars that made shapes on his face and he looked in his early thirties. Jon mentioned this kind of Wildling was called a Thenn and they happen to be cannibals. But they all swore to end it when they were let through the Wall. "Are you the Queen with the dragons?" One them with ginger hair asked.

Missandei stepped forward and announced Daenerys to them. "You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. Rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains." All the Wildlings seemed unfazed.

"Is she done?" The ginger Wildling asked.

"She is," Daenerys said, "and who might you be?"

"Garfield, Leader of the Ice River clans."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Daenerys made sure to show her courtesies no matter who she dealt with, "however I must admit that was only expecting three of you, not ten thousand."

"Actually, we're fourteen thousand," the Thenn said, "the rest of us remained at the great stone hut you call the Dreadfort."

"That raises the question," Tyrion started, "why did you leave the Dreadfort?"

"because there's fuckin too many there!" The ginger said. "All the southerners in the castle kept getting into fights with us and told us to leave. Without a Clan leader there to keep them in check, the people act like wild dogs. Even though we could've killed everyone there and taken the place for ourselves, we didn't becasue then we'd have to face your armies and your dragons."

"That's it?" Tormund asked, disgusted. "Is that the only reason you didn't kill anyone?"

"It was hard not to. They kept on trying to put their rules and laws on us. We left them alone but even when we weren't in the damn castle, there were men telling us what we couldn't do. We left the rest of Free Folk to make sure they knew who ran the place."

"And you thought that was the Free Folk?"

"There's not even four hundred of these southern fuckers there. We could've left our children there and we'd still take the castle-" The Wildling was suddenly grabbed by Tormund and thrown to the ground. Tormund got on top of him and started roaring as he punched the Elder. The other Elders backed away, nervous to face Tormund.

After the ginger Wildling's face was covered in blood and bruises, Tormund grabbed him by his collar and pulled him off the ground. "Jon saved us from Hardhome, from the North. We fought with him against those traitors who stole his home so we could be safe. He fucking died for us when he let us through the Wall and he died again and became a blue-eyed demon! After all this, you still complain and plan against him!?" Tormund dropped the elder to the ground and faced the others. "The Free Folk lived north of the Wall. Now, we live with the southerners. We live by their rules, and their laws." He turned to face Daenerys. "We follow their rulers."

"Tormund," a voice called out. Everyone turned and looked up to the balconies and saw Jon with his arms on the railing, leaning against it. He only wore a loose shirt, some breeches, and his boots. Daenerys was overjoyed when she saw him and left the Wildlings and everyone else. She quickly climbed up the stairs and when Jon was within arms reached, she tightly embraced him and closed her eyes. She was begging that this wasn't a dream as she pulled her head back and gazed into his eyes. They were still brown and brooding, like they always were. She couldn't resist herself and pulled his head to hers and kissed him. She didn't care if everyone was watching them, he was hers, and he came back.

As she finally released him, she pounded her fist on his shoulder. "If you ever die again, I won't forgive you."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm so sorry, about leaving, about Viserion-"

"Not now, when we have time for ourselves." Even though she wanted that more than anything, responsibilities had to come first. She looked up and his body, wondering why in any hells he would dress so lightly in the cold. "You idiot, you'll freeze again dressed like this."

"I didn't want to waste time looking for you." He smiled and hugged her again, this time it was a soft one. He tured his gaze down to everyone and released Daenerys. They both walked down the stairs and back to the Wilding Elders. Tormund quickly got a hug in himself before they proceed with things.

"How many more times do have to give your life for others?" He asked.

"I hope only once more, when I'm late in my years." Tormund smile as let go of him.

"I thought you said he turned." One of the Elders said.

"He was brought back by a red woman and his dragons." Tormund informed. "She traded her life for his."

"Care to explain why there's an army of the Free Folk here?" Jon asked.

Tormund looked down to the Elder who was still covered in blood as he got up. "Garfield had some concerns. But I hope with our conversation we just had, those are no longer a problem."

"Some of them are." The Thenn said. "The animals weren't bountiful enough to support all the people there and if we stayed, then there would be nothing else to hunt by the years end. The southerners at the Dreadfort are angry without their lord being their."

"I can't be at the Dreadfort now, not until the war against the dead is won."

"Then maybe you should appoint a castellan," Daenerys suggested. "Is there anyone you could trust to do so?"

Jon didn't answer at first, he was thinking about what to do. He turned to the Thenn who conveyed things better than Garfield did. "How much supplies do the Free Folk who came with you have?"

"Enough to last us two weeks."

"That's more than enough time." Jon turned around to everyone else. "Gather all the Lords and Ladies who are still here and inform them to meet in the Great Hall as soon as possible."

"At once, your grace." Tyrion said as everyone did as they were instructed.

Jon turned back around to the Elders. "We'll settle things as best we can if you'll join us."

"Of course, Jon Snow."

"He's not Snow anymore," Tormund informed, "He's Jon Targaryen now."

"Doesn't roll off the tongue as easy." The Thenn reminded.

* * *

In Jon and Daneerys's solar, Jon began to get himself properly dressed as Daenerys sat down at their table, drinking more water to quench her thirst. "A lot has happened while you were gone."

"I noticed Arya wasn't here. Where'd she run off to?"

Daenerys was hesitant to answer, afraid of his reaction. "She left to go reclaim the Riverlands for the Tullys by herself."

Jon had just put on a long coat to substitute for his missing cloak. "She left alone?"

"From what I was told, yes. Everyone is confident she'll succeed given that she was the one who killed all the Frey men."

Jon just sighed heavily before turning around to face her. "Why does there have to be war?"

She didn't know if his question was rhetorical or not, but she gave her best answer. "I was told by Daario Naharis that as long as there are two people left in the world, someone would want the other dead."

"And what if it was just you and me? What if we woke up tomorrow and we were the only ones left?"

"We wouldn't be along for very long." Daenerys brought a hand over her belly and smirked at Jon as he realized what she was implying.

"Your…" he couldn't manage to get anymore words out of his mouth.

"You were right. I've been believing in an unreliable source of information." He smiled at her, but he looked sad. She knew he wasn't, but it was only looked that way. She stood and walked over and took his hands in hers. "Your going to be a father to two beautiful children."

"Two? Twins?" She smiled at him gently before he picked her up and spin her around in his arms. She let out a laugh before he kissed her. This moment had to be the happiest she'd been since their wedding. "I love you, Dany." Jon set Daenerys down and looked into her eyes.

"Dany? The last person who called me that was my brother." The memory of him curdled her mind. "He wasn't the best of company to keep, but I like it when you say it."

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Jon let go of Daenerys so she stood beside him. "Yes?" he called out.

"The lords are waiting for you." Jorah said through the door.

Daenerys looked to Jon, feeling unsure about this. "Then let's not keep them waiting." She told him. Before they left, Jon tied his back in his regular style.

* * *

In the Great Hall, the Lords and Ladies all took their seats and remained silent and mystified when Jon entered with Daenerys followed by Jorah. The two of them took their seats next to Sansa, Bran, and Rickon and Jorah remained on guard behind Daenerys. "Before we begin," Jon said, "is there anything anyone would like to say?"

No one said any for a while until Lord reed stood up and all attention was on him. "It's good to have you back, your Grace." Everyone silently nodded and there was a blissful peace in the atmosphere of the room.

Lord Reed sat down and no one else said anything. "Then let's get started." Jon stood up from his seat and scanned the room. He noticed Gendry was present, sitting next to Beric Dondarion and Sandor Clegane. "As you all know, a large portion of the Free Folk have traveled from the Dreadfort. I was informed that this was due to overcrowding and the amount of food available was too scarce for twenty thousand. We can't house them all at Winterfell, so I ask if there are any who will volunteer to share their lands with the Free Folk?"

Ned Umber was the first to stand up. "The Last Hearth can provide for three thousand of them. I will also volunteer to take in some of the Giants and their Mammoths."

Rodrik Forrester stood up from his seat. "I will volunteer to take a host of five thousand, your Grace. House Forrester is in need of able bodies to help lumber the Ironwood. The rest of the remaining Giants will be welcome. We might even be able to make armor for them if they'll let us."

Wyman Manderly was the last Lord to stand. "I will take the remaining Wildlings and house them at Old Castle. We can restore it and the docks to make port for more ships that can trade for food and supplies for the coming winter."

This was a surprise to Daenerys and Jon. The Northern Lords were known for their grudges against the Wildlings, yet in less than minute, three of them volunteered without hesitation, or doubt. "Thank you, my lords. I will make sure that when the war is over, this debt is not forgotten." Jon turned his attention to the Free Folk who were standing with Tormund on the left side of the room. "When we're through here, meet with the three lords and discuss who will go where."

"Thank you, Jon Sn- Targaryen." The Thenn said. The three lords sat down as Jon continued.

"There is still the issue with the Free Folk at the Dread Fort. I can't be there to rule over them, so I'll need to appoint a castellan who the Notherners and the Wildlings trust."

"Your Grace," Lord Forrester said, "I have a half brother who lived for some time beyond the Wall with the Wildlings.

"What's his name?" One of the elders asked.

"Josera Snow."

"I know him," another Elder said, "he's a warg and has a sister, Elsera."

"Do you trust him?" Jon asked Rodrick.

"We have our disagreements, but he is my family, and I believe in him."

"That's as good as we can get. Send word that he is requested to rule the Dreadfort until I have the time to settle things myself."

"I will, your Grace."

"Lord Tyrion," Jon said, "have you sent a raven to Kings Landing?"

"I did, your Grace. We should be receiving a response any day now."

"Should Cersei accept or not, I want ravens sent out to each of the Kingdoms, inviting three of the major houses to the armistice to come and see what we brought from beyond the Wall."

"If you want three lords, then you already have the Stormlands." Gendry announced. Jon looked puzzled. He still didn't know about Gendry's naturalizing. "I'll represent House Baratheon and Beric and Brienne can come with me."

Daenerys heard about Brienne's father and that she didn't take it well. But she was recuperating little by little. "I am still sworn to serve Lady Sansa and Lady Arya," Brienne informed, "but if they will grant me a permission of leave, then I shall represent House Tarth."

All eyes turned to Sansa for her decision. "You completed your vows. Arya and I made it home to Winterfell as you promised our mother."

"My Lady," Varys interjected, "I have have news of your sister and the status of the Riverlands. As we speak, nearly all the Lannister Forces are preparing to march back to the Westerlands and command of the remaining forces will be given to Lord Edmure Tully. This was all under the orders of Commander Kamren Lefford."

"And what about Arya?" Sansa asked.

Varys kept his complection, but Daenerys knew him long enough to read his feelings and he was grim. "There was a report of an attempted assassination on Lady Roslin and her son by a young girl wielding only a Valyrian dagger. She killed one Lannister guard and critically injured two, but Commander Lefford was able to stab her left arm before she jumped out of window and into a river." There was much discontent and murmuring sounded through the Great Hall and the Starks except for Bran looked devastated. "The report continued to say that Commander Lefford led a hunting party of fifteen and returned alone. He claimed the girl died and that his men were set upon by a pack of wolves, two of which were of monstrous size."

"Ghost and Nymeria," Bran said, "They saved her before they could kill her. Arya's waiting at Riverrun for Gendry to follow him to the Stormlands. She'll be alright. She's stronger than we give her credit for."

Sansa wanted to say something, but she kept quiet but still looked concerned as did Jon. "Lord Royce," Jon said, "will you and Lord Arryn be able to represent the Vale?"

"We shall, your Grace. I will send a raven to him and Lyonel Corbay."

"Very good. As for the Reach and Dorne, we'll send ravens to House Tarly and House Dayne. We'll send a Raven to Theon and Yara Greyjoy as well."

"What about the Westerlands?" Rickon asked.

"Cersei has them under her control, and Jaime Lannister will all they need to represent them."

"If we could," Samwell said, he sat next to Lady Mormont and Lord Cerwyn, "I think if we send a raven to the Citadel, they'll be inclined to investigate. And once they see the truth, they'll provide some actual help for once." Many of the lords laugh at Sam's statement.

"Aye," Jon said, "they could provide knowledge of things we don't know."

"Then it's settled," Daenerys said, "we'll begin preparations for the armistice immediately."

"Not yet," Jon said, "There is something else I need to say before we conclude for the day." Everyone gave their attention to Jon as he showed fear in his words. "When I was a wight, I could feel the mind of the Night King. It was like being a puppet and the strings that held me up were made of steel. But I knew what he was planning. We thought he would be marching on Eastwatch, but we were wrong. He'll be heading for Castle Black once he gathers his full strength."

"Your grace," Brienne said, "Doesn't he already have his entire army? We saw the entirety of it at the frozen lake."

"It's not," Rickon said, "The Night King has seventy thousand more coming from the north to join the rest. We'll be facing over two hundred thousand and now, he rides a dragon."

This froze Daenerys. Losing one of her children to the Night King and them having him brought back as nothing but a tool of death felt just as painful as when she saw Jon with those eyes of blue. She couldn't bare to see him like that, and she can't bare to have Viserion be what he has become. "We will be evenly matched," Jon said, "but I know how we can win." This caused the murmurs to stop and everyone had hope in their eyes. "We won't wait for the Night King to come to us. We'll pull back every man on the Wall and when it comes crashing down, we'll ride out to meet him and his army." This caused a wave of shock and disbelief to fill everyone. "When I fought at Hardhome and when we captured the wight, the Night King gained the upper hand with the same strategy he will try to use again. He'll corner us with no where to run and finish us off. But not this time. We will let the Wall collapse. And when it does, we will face his army and never let any of them set foot in the North!" Many of the Northern lords agreed and nodded, confident. "We have just over two months. We need to use every second we can to prepare ourselves. So let's all quite talking and get working."


	49. Jon XVII

Jon

Atop of a mountain in the lands north of the Wall, Jon could barely see the great structure far off to the distance. Between him and the Wall was the haunted forest and the part that was set ablaze as the great fire the North had ever seen. Without even realizing how, he was taken to the Fist of the First men. He looked around and could still see the frozen horse corpses partially buried in the snow. He walked over the to knuckles of the Fist and looked out to the north. It was all as he remembered when he was first here. Despite the death and the evil he faced in these lands, he was glad to see them again. There was a certain beauty to them that nothing could touch that made him feel at ease. Again, he was taken to somewhere else. This time he had no knowledge of where he was. The skies were dark with cloud and night, but there were mysterious lights that penetrated to the lands below. Before him was a path leading to a lone mountain. Without even thinking, he found himself in the middle of it at an alter of ice surrounded by a circle of ice pillars. Jon placed his hand on the alter and felt the cold run up his fingers and into his body.

From the sky, Jon heard a deafening screech. He looked up and saw a dragon circling down to the mountain. He recognized the dragon to be Viserion, but his scales had changed from bronze to a cold white. As the dragon landed, Jon saw the Night King dismounted it and begin to approach him. Rather than run, Jon began walking to meet the Night King. Within moments, the two stopped and were face to face with each other.

Surprising to Jon, The Night King started to clap his hands, applauding him. He didn't care though, instead, Jon drew Longclaw from it's scabbard and stabbed it into the ground. "You won't win." He said softly. "I don't know why you want us all dead, even after being one of your puppets, but I know that you won't win." The Night King didn't respond. Instead he reached behind his back and drew his blade of ice and held it in both of his hands. Jon pulled Longclaw out from the ground and readied himself.

The Night King made the first move and quickly swung his blade at Jon's torso, but it clashed with Longclaw and the two foes fell into a duel. But it wasn't to the death. There was no ferocity or rage in any strike. Jon was testing the Night Knight as he was doing to him. It wasn't until the came into a lock in weapons that Jon had to put strength into his force. Without warning, the Night King released his weapon and dropped it to the ground. Before Jon could strike, The Night King grabbed the back of Jon's head with one hand and placed his other hand on Jon's chest. He puled his close so that they were inches apart. He opened his mouth and a cold voice spoke to Jon. "Winter…is…forever…"

Jon woke up from his dream and felt colder than he did when he was submerged in the frozen lake. He slowly sat up, trying not to disturb Daenerys who slept peacefully next to him, and got out of his bed. He put on some pants and his long coat before grabbing his boats and leaving the room.

He walked throughout Winterfell and felt the cold disappearing even with his chest exposed. He didn't care about hiding his scars anymore since he had already had to explain to every Lord and Lady how he got them. Jon soon found himself in the presence of his dragons outside of Winterfell. Ygris and Lyarras woke up from their sleep as Jon approached them, but Rhaegal remained asleep. His daughters nudged their heads against Jon, wanting him to pet them. He slowly stroked underneath their chins and felt complete to be with them. The two of them were large enough to have a rider. Daenerys told Jon that Rickon wanted to ride on them desperately.

"What do you think?" He asked his daughters. "There are only two Targaryens, but four dragons. Will you look for someone to ride you?"

Ygris snorted at Jon's head, his hair getting brushed in the gust of air. Lyarras on the other hand looked at him calmly with her golden eyes. Jon had the instinct to warg into them and did so. Through the eyes of his dragons, Jon felt their emotions as if they were his own. Ygris was rejecting of what Jon said. She wanted to be riderless and free, but Lyarras felt joy in such an idea. She wanted someone to be with her as she flew in the skies.

Jon returned to himself and stared at his dragons, happy that they chose him. He gave them each one last caress on their snouts before feeling the desire to return to his solar. He left them and began walking back to the castle, wishing that things could be like this forever.

As he walked through the gates, he made his way up to the balconies and was met by Daenerys. "What are you doing out of bed?" he asked quietly.

"I was afraid that I only dreamed that you came back. I had to find you to make sure." He gave her a soft hug and kissed the crown of her head. He remembered when He told Melisandre not to bring him back if he died again. But he didn't feel that way anymore. He never wanted to leave Danerys ever again.

"I'm still here."

"I love you, Jon." She looked up to him and kept her eyes fixed on his.

"I love you, Dany."

"Will you come back to bed with me?"

"Of course I will." Jon gently intertwined his fingers with hers and the walked together hand in hand.

Back in their bed, Jon held Daenerys in his right arm and rested his left hand above his heart. Daenerys slid her hand across his chest underneath Jon's hand. He didn't feel ready to go back to sleep, so he just stared out of the window of their solar, watching snow fall outside.

"Will you sing me your song?" Daenerys whispered. "I want our children to hear you sing it."

Jon smiled and sung softly.

"Though the winds of winter blow

They will never scare the crow

Never shall we knock Death's door

For the lands above we'll soar

When the King comes striking down

Our steel will break his crown

His touch turns all to ice

In the snows will be demise

And then the skies will fill with light

Our brothers have won the fight

The fires of the dawn will come

And the colds of winter undone

Then the one who was lost shall win

And the greatest of ages shall begin

When all finds peace in the end

The world forever we'll defend

The wolves will howl and the dragons cry

Through fire and ice together we'll fly."

Daenerys looked up to Jon. "You added more."

"You don't like it?"

Daenerys smiled at him and nuzzled her head on Jon's chest. "We love it."


	50. Davos III

Davos

With the help of a Wildling escort, Davos had managed to return to Winterfell in just over a week's worth of travel. He was glad to have made it in such time, the news of the ranging party returning directly to the castle on one of the dragons was surprising, but not as much as much as when he learned that one of Daenerys's had died beyond the Wall. He was glad to be away from the Wall. The constant looming of the giant wall of ice made him feel sick and the men of the Watch weren't as sociable as the men at Castle Black were. And then there was the mysterious rider from beyond the Wall who returned Longclaw at the tunnel gate. Davos kept it with him ever since.

The thought of seeing the castle of Winterfell again gave Davos feeling of anticipation as he and his escort were on the roads of the hills just beyond it. However, those feelings vanished when not only the castle came into sight, but an army of soldiers with banners that held the sigil of a burning heart. More worshippers of the Lord of Light, and these in particular ones happened to be known as the Fiery Hand. The flaming tattoos on their cheeks made them easy to identify. If they were here, then there was a chance that the witch Melisandre was here too. His grip around the reigns of his horse tightened and his teeth clenched. He spurred his horse into a fast gallop leaving the Wildlings behind him.

It wasn't long until he passed through the gates and into the courtyard. As the horse came to a halt, Davos noticed that everyone in the castle was working twice as hard as they did before he and the others left. Everyone had a look of determination in their eyes, but there was also a small but of fear behind it. His gaze turned to the forge that Gendry was given and he wasn't expecting the fires to out. Gendry himself was walking with Sandor Clegane, Brienne of Tarth, and the one eyed Dondarrion lord, Beric.

Something Davos wasn't expecting was Gendry to be dressed in fine clothes and wore a gorget with a Baratheon sigil, but it was different than the any of the three stags flown by the Baratheons during the War of the Five Kings. The sigil was only the head of the stag resting on an anvil and the crown around the neck was gone. Davos walked over to them and earned a smile from Gendry. "This a new fashion for smiths?" Davos asked.

"There was problem making the Valyrian steel," Gendry informed, "I'm not sure what, but Sam's looking into it as much as he can. As for me, I'm going to the Stormlands to take my place as Lord of Storm's End."

"Lord? You've been naturalized?" Gendry proudly nodded at him. "That explains the sigil then."

"My family's words are what defined the downfall of them. We claim the fury is ours without any means behind it. So when I become lord, the Baratheons will have new words. We Forge the Fury."

"I like it. These three coming with you?"

"Indeed," Beric said, "we're to be the ones to support the boy's claim to his birthright."

"We were hoping you'd come with us." Gendry informed.

"Me?" Davos asked, flattered.

"I need people I can trust to help me be a lord. I can't think of anyone else better than you."

"I thought that's what they were for." Davos gestured to the three who followed Gendry.

"We're just supporting his claim." Brienne informed.

"I haven't known Lady Tarth very long, Clegane's coming because he wants to, and Beric sold me to the witch."

Davos had completely forgotten about her. "I noticed the army of fire worshippers on my way here. Is she here too?"

"She was," Gendry said, "but she died the day she got here."

"Executed by the King I hope."

"She traded her life for his," Beric interjected, argivated, "Jon died beyond the Wall and turned into a wight, but her magic and sacrifice brought him back to life."

Davos was lost for words for a moment. He wanted her dead for everything that happened because of her involvement with Stannis, but serving Jon, she kept giving reasons for him to not want to. He wouldn't ever forgive her for burning Shireen, but he couldn't help but feel grateful for bringing Jon back, especially now that he has a wife and thanks to one of the Wildlings who escorted him, he learned Jon was going to be a father. "Then she has faced justice. When will you be leaving?"

"As soon as we receive word from the Riverlands." Brienne informed. "Arya secured them from the Lannisters and we're waiting for their troops to empty out before we leave."

"Then if that's all, I need a heavy drink and a word with the King. I expect he'll be wanting his sword back." Davos gripped Longclaw which was worn around his waist. He bowed his head to them and excused himself. "Oh," he ceased his pace, "I nearly forgot, my escort will be here soon with your things you all left at the Wall."

"Finally." Sandor said.

* * *

The next couple of days were mostly spent strategizing the offences the current forces loyal to the Targaryens would use when the dead would arrive at Castle Black. Jon would ride Rhaegal and lead Ygris and Lyarras to battle against the Night King and Viserion while Daenerys and Drogon would flank the Army of the Dead from the north. The archers and infantry would hold a line at Castle Black after the Wall would fall and the Dothraki would flank from the east and west. The Only problem was that they were outnumbered without the other Kingdoms. If they could defeat Viserion, the dragons could focus their attacks on the bulk of the dead prevent any escape.

Davos had been working with Tyrion and Varys to form a plan to steal Cersei's Wildfire stores and smuggle what they could to the Wall. But after much anticipation, a raven from the Riverlands arrived informing the Tully's had full control once again. After some counsel with Jon, Davos was granted leave to advise Gendry and join his escort to the Riverlands, eventually leaving for the Stormlands. They would be accompanied by twenty Northmen and twenty Knights of the Vale who would ride with them until they would break off for the Vale, returning to the Eryie with Lord Royce.

Presently, Davos was walking with Gendry who was leading him and Jon to his solar. Everyone else who was leaving was preparing their horses and a cart of supplies for the journey. Davos and Jon weaved through many busy people while Gendry slipped through with ease. Finally clear of everyone, Davos, Jon, and Gendry stood in the forge, waiting for Gendry to inform why he brought them there.

"I felt bad I was only able to make the one sword. So in my spare time, I've been working on something to make up for the failures." Gendry approached a cloth that was draped over an armor stand and pulled it off, revealing his work.

Underneath was a fantastic set of armor made for Jon. Gendry had made a pair of steel half gauntlets, both covered the entire forearm and they each had the Targaryen sigil in the elbow plating, a new gorget that had a direwolf facing forward with rubies for its eyes and connected to it were steel pauldrons that were lined with fur and had four steel plates flowing the shoulder to the arm. The upper section was designed to be worn over Jon's black armor. For the legs were two greaves that covers the front of the legs. Both of them had a feather pattern etched in them, similar to the pattern that was on Jon's wedding attire.

Jon and Davos were both marveled at the work, Jon not being able to resist feeling the direwolf on the gorget. "This is beautiful." Jon commented.

"It's the best work I've ever done." Gendry informed. "Only wish I had the time to make a helmet."

Jon smiled at him, pleased with what he was already given. "I'll manage without one."

"Then it looks like this is farewell for now." Gendry set the cloth on a table and approached Jon, giving him a hug. "Thank you, for everything."

"Good luck." They let go of each other and Davos followed Gendry out of the forge while Jon took another moment to look at the armor. Two stable boys were holding the reigns of their horses, waiting for them to be mounted. The caravan was nearly ready, only waiting for a few riders and four bannermen. One to carry the banners of each house they would be representing. The Stark soldiers carried the Banners of Stark, Tarth, and Gendry's Baratheon sigil, while the Knights of the Vale carried the Banner of House Arryn. Jon had some banners of house Dondarrion made, but Beric refused them saying that he had no banners anymore. He was currently saying his goodbye to the archer, Anguy, who decided to stay in Winterfell to help train the archers.

Davos noticed Lady Brienne and her squire, Podrick, were getting their saddles ready as Tormund approached Brienne. He held a dragonglass dagger to her, the quality of it had to be the best Davos had ever seen so far. It was simple, but the handle was made of bone of some kind, carved into bear. This was the first time Davos saw the lady not look reviled to be in Tormund's presence as she took it and even smiled at him.

"Davos," Gendry said, "Are you ready?"

"Are you?"

Gendry shook his head, but he smiled while he did it. "Seven hells, no. But I hope you'll help me to be."

"Aye, that I will." The two of them mounted their horses and all was set. Jon and Daenerys stood with each other off the side to see them off. Beric rode at the head of the caravan and was taking the lead.

"We ride hard for the Riverlands!" Beric shouted. "Let's remind the world that Winter is here!" He spurred his horse out of the gates and the caravan followed suite. The moment Davos rode out from the gates, he couldn't help but feel a loss of security.

* * *

Beric wasn't lying when he said they would be riding hard. It felt like he was trying to outdo the speed of the Wildlings, but he was still slower than them. But they arrived at the Twins quicker than planned and Riverrun even quicker. But throughout the entire journey, there were many awkward moments when they would pass a Lannister encampment. The enemy soldiers would stand and keep their hands on their weapons, but never took up arms against them.

Outside the castle on both sides of the rivers that ran under Riverrun, there were many Riverlanders wearing Tully armor, and not a single Lannister soldier was present. The caravan halted at the drawbridge entrance and waited for the it to lower for them. Instead of entry, the guards on the battlements pointed crossbows down to them. "Who goes there?" One them called out.

Davos trotted his horse to the front of the caravan and stopped next to Beric. "We come from Winterfell on behalf of King Jon Targaryen and Queen Daenerys Targaryen! We seek an audience with your Lord, Edmure Tully!"

The guard scanned the men of the caravan and left the battlements, but the rest of them kept aiming their crossbows. Minutes later, the guard returned and gave a signal to the men. They raised their crossbows away and the draw bridge began to lower. The moment the edge of it connected with the bridge, Davos and Beric led the others into the castle. Inside, they were greeted by about fifty more Tully soldiers in the courtyard, all of them giving caution. They lost the castle once and they didn't look intent on losing it again. Once everyone was inside, the drawbridge raised back up and a men escorted by three guards approached.

"My lords," He said, "we've been expecting for you. I'm Edmure Tully, you're most welcome here."

"Lord Tully," Davos said, "I'm Ser Davos Seaworth, is the Lady Arya here?"

"My niece is resting in her chambers. She's still recovering from her wounds. My maester is tending to her as we speak."

"That's good news. May I be the first to present Gendry of House Baratheon." Gendry walked forward bowed his head to Edmure.

"Baratheon?" Edmure asked, intrigued.

"I'm the last living bastard of Robert Baratheon." Gendry informed. "I was naturalized by Queen Daenerys."

"That's wonderful to hear. These wars have ended too many great houses from the world. You must all be weary from your travels. I've rooms prepared for you and your men and if there's anything you have need of, only ask."

"Thank you, milord." Davos cleared his throat at Gendry. "'My' lord." Beric and Davos did what they could so far to turn Gendry from a smith from Flea Bottom into the Lord of Storm's End, but there was far much more work to be done. "If I could, I'd like to see Arya."

"Of course, my lord. I'll take you to her myself while your men get situated."

Edmure began to lead Gendry into the castle as his men assisted the Stark soldiers with their horses. Brienne followed closely behind them as did Davos.

Upon reaching the door to Arya's chambers, Edmure knocked twice before a elderly maester opened the door and greeted them. "Lord Edmure," The maester said, "what wonderful timing. She's just woken up. Do come in."

"Actually, I'm afraid I have other matters to attend to." Edmure replied. "I shall take my leave." Edmure left as everyone entered into the room and saw Arya in a large bed under the fur blankets. She set down a metal trinket she had in her right hand onto a nightstand next the bed and then everyone saw her other arm bandaged and set in a splint.

"Lady Arya," Brienne said she quickly walked over to the side of the bed and knelt down to her. "I must be honest and express my frustration at you for doing something so rash without any help. Lord Reed told me he offered help but you refused him. What were you thinking?"

"I was overconfident." Arya said, shame was present in her voice. This surprised Brienne and even Davos. Arya had always been so sure about things and never doubtful, yet here she was in full humility. "I thought I could do things quick and easy, but I got carried away. I thought I was better than I was, and I paid the price for it. If it wasn't for Ghost and Nymeria, I would've died."

Brienne was speechless. Davos knew she probably had a lecture prepared, but it seemed it wouldn't be necessary. Out of all the concern, Gendry chuckled to himself a bit. Everyone turned and saw him and smirking at Arya. "Have you noticed that things turned to shit when we part ways?" Arya was amused at his remark and let out a small bit of laughter.

"More reason for me to go with you then."

Brienne was about to object, but Davos placed his hand on her shoulder to stop her. She turned her head to him and he merely arched his brow, as if she really thought things would be any different. Brienne sighed and stood up. "How much longer until your arm heals?"

"Earliest I was told was just over one moon. But I'll be sure to get better before we even get to Kings Landing then."

"Just in time for the dead." Gendry openly said.

"We received word about that. Edmure didn't believe it at first, but after a conversation reminding him of his failures, he's agreed to go to King's Landing with Tytos Blackwood and Jonos Bracken."

"Why them?" Davos asked. "I've heard the Blackwoods and the Brackens have bad history."

"They still do, but Edmure said that if Jon is trying to unite the realms for a better purpose, maybe he could do the same with his vassals."

"Smart move." Davos replied.

"Probably the first one he's ever made." Arya jested, although she might not've been wrong about that. "So when will we be leaving?"

"Tomorrow afternoon." Gendry informed. "Hopefully we'll be resupplied by then and have secured a safe route to the Stormlands."

"My lords, my lady." The maester interjected. "It's time for me to change the lady's bandages. If you wouldn't mind leaving us."

"Of course," Davos said, "we need to consort with Lord Edmure anyways." The maester bowed his head to them and Arya just gave them a small smile, but she looked the tiniest bit sad, as of she didn't want them to. Regardless, Davos and Brienne left the room, Gendry followed slowly, giving Arya one last look before he closed the doors.

Gathered in the main hall of Riverrun, Edmure had just finished going over his troop's movements with two of his captains. "With most of the Lannister froces gone, the Riverlands are free to declare for the King Jon and Queen Daenerys." Edmure said, taking a drink from a wine glass he held.

"Glad to hear it." Davos said. "Now only four more realms need to. When the meeting with Cersei happens, that will hopefully be the turning point for everything."

"I do have some concerns however. The reason it's happening at all for example. You claim there's an army of dead men marching on the Wall?"

"The largest and most dangerous in the world."

"Impossible, the White Walkers are just a story."

Brienne sighed at his remark. "I thought so too," she said, "but then I saw them beyond the Wall. I saw their army, I fought them, and I slew one of the Walkers."

Edmure just shook his head at her, disbelieving everything she said. "You have to understand how that sounds from my position. Such a thing is hard to believe without proof."

"Which is exactly what we brought back from beyond the Wall."

Edmure sighed, he looked tired. "I'll go to this gathering, but until I see such I thing, I don't think I can believe it."

"I don't blame ya," Davos said, "I didn't want to believe it either. Even when I saw that damned creature at Winterfell, I still didn't want to. But only when I saw it did I realize that it couldn't be ignored any longer."

Edmure just looked at his wine glass and took another drink, pondering what was said. "There's something else I'd like to discuss." He said, changing the subject. "I've sent a raven to Winterfell asking for what justice is the King and Queen have in store for the remnants of House Frey."

"The King and Queen have decided that the Twins are forfeit to any claim the Freys had. Since all the men are dead save a few babes, there's not much contending going on."

"That's true. But what about the remaining family members?"

"Since the women had no part in the Red Wedding, they're declared innocent. The King wants to remind the realms that a child isn't responsible for the sins of the father. The fate of the Frey army hasn't been decided yet."

Edmure scoffed. "Most of the Frey soldiers surrendered and have changed their allegiance to my vassal houses, but those that didn't run amok and cause trouble. But it won't be much longer until the bulks of my forces are Tullys."

"So then the Twins are without a lord." Brienne stated.

"Not for much longer, I plan on giving them to a lesser house that remained loyal to my uncle the Blackfish."

"Actually," Davos said, "I'm afraid that the Twins were already given a new lord."

"What? By whose authority?"

"The Queen's. There's someone in Kings Landing working as an insider for us and he's close to Jaime Lannister." Davos pulled out a small scroll from his pocket that was stamped with the Targaryen sigil. "There's a debt owed to him, and the Hand promised to double it if he switched sides with us." Edmure took the scroll from Davos and unraveled it, reading its contents.

"This doesn't make any sense. I've never heard of House Blackwater."


	51. Jaime II

Jaime

It took about three drinks in for Jaime to finally acquire a taste for the ale in Flea Bottom. He and Bronn were enjoying the company of some of the Golden Company sellswords. Despite the fact that the tavern was fill to the brim with men, women, soldiers, and whores, Jaime preferred to be here rather than in the Red Keep. Ever since a raven from the Westerlands came, Cersei had been in a fit of rage. When they learned that almost the entire Lannister forces garrisoned in the Riverlands left under false knowledge, Jaime had to do his best to keep his sister calm. She wanted to Kill five hundred of those men to set an example, but all Jaime had to do is remind her that they were already outnumbered.

This kind of behavior had to be bad for their child, yet Cersei continued to grow in her rage. But now things were beginning to calm down ever since the raven from Winterfell came. Tyrion sent it informing that they were ready to meet. What he failed to mention that Qyburns little birds didn't was that he sent ravens to all the other Kingdoms inviting three lords to attend this meeting as well. If the Targaryens succeeded in uniting the other lords with them, then the war would be truly lost.

Bronn had just finished teasing one of the many prostitutes around them before he leaned closely to Jaime to whisper to him. "I just got word from my boy's inside the City Watch. The food stores are near empty and will only last another three months. After that, the city's fucked." He pulled his head away and finished his beer.

"What about the Westerlands?" Jaime asked casually as he drank down his ale.

"The good Lords have plenty of food for them and their people for the winter. Too bad we're in the Crownlands and even the Queen's power won't force them to turn over their stores."

"Can we smuggle anything from the Reach?"

"Maybe a little bit, but who will? The Tyrell gold's gone so there's no one to hire."

"All of it?" Jaime was sure that there was plenty remaining after giving the Iron Bank their due.

"Aye, not sure about the details but Cersei invested it into something that'll gain the upperhand in the war to come."

Jaime felt a headache suddenly come over him and massaged his temple. That gold could've bought them more food from Essosi Merchants. A small part of it could've paid smugglers to steal from the Reach. Cersei was keeping more and more things from him as the days passed and if continued like this then the Targaryens would lay siege to a city of skeletons.

"Would you quit your damn moping already?" Bronn asked. "There's still a chance to win. It's just not reachable by anyone without dragons and a bigger army than yours. And from what I heard, the men who stayed in the Riverlands are doing the smart thing and switching to the side the has that chance."

"Well then, why don't you join them already?" Jaime asked, irritated. "My brother already offered you a castle and a highborn lady, what's keeping you here?"

"You are."

Jaime turned his head, surprised and even flattered, but that was only because he was starting to get drunk.

"I like you Lannisters," Bronn said, "if it weren't for you lot, I wouldn't be where I am today. So I'm making this offer only once. After this meeting with the Targaryens happens, I'm going with them to face whatever it is the fuck their fighting that isn't you."

"It's an army of dead men, did you know that?" Jaime playfully asked.

"Aye, I heard. But luckily for me, I'm good at three things. Surviving, fighting, and fucking. You on the other hand, or your only hand in your case, are good at two things. Commanding armies and being a pawn to your sister."

Weeks ago, Jaime would've tried to punch Bronn, but ever since there talk in Littlefinger's brothel, he couldn't help but feel that Bronn was right."

"If you need more proof, do one of two things. Go to the Black Cells and ask Elliara Sand how's she's liking her stay along with every other prisoner your sister put there since a certain Queen arrived in Westeros. Or stay with your sister and die in your city." Bronn got up from his seat and stood right behind Jaime, placing both of his hands on Jaime's shoulders, squeezing them. "You should try to calm down a bit. Maybe find a woman who isn't blonde."

Bronn patted Jaime's check and left the tavern. As conversation and laughter boomed around him, Jaime sat quietly, as if defeated and had no purpose. He finished his ale and set it the empty mug on the table before getting up and leaving. Outside of the Tavern, to guards that were his escorts stood at attention and followed him as he left.

"Are we going back to the Red Keep, my Lord?"

"Yes, but first we're going to the dungeons."

* * *

The Black Cells always had a fowl stench to them, but the thought of rot and shit sounded sweet and fragrant compared to what lingered in the air now. Moans of pain echoed throughout the halls of men and women alike. There had never been as many prisoners before now.

Jaime followed by two of his men were escorted by Qyburn to one cell in particular. The guard that stood watch over the door unlocked for them and Qyburn decided to wait outside rather than go in. Jaime slowly walked in with a torch in hand, the contents of the cells disgusted him as the light bled inside. On his right was a woman with as much flesh as a skeleton, chained to the wall. Her wrists were riddled with scabs and blisters and if not for the sound of raspy breaths, Jaime would've thought her to be dead.

On the other side of the cell, lying on the ground was a decaying girl's corpse, dressed in tattering Dornish clothing. Her right arm was ripped from her body and dangled on the shackle it was chained to. Maggots crawled up and down the face and body.

Jaime was horrified at the sight. Cersei never told him what she did to Elliara and Tyene, but that was probably because Jaime would've done something about this. He walked over to Elliara and knelt down to her. She didn't look at him, but she didn't look like she could anyway. The colors of her eyes were paled and cloudy.

"Can you hear me?" Jaime asked. The only confirmation he received was a longer exhale she managed to do. Jaime looked down to the ground, ashamed of this. "I hate you, I do. When I first saw the blood drip from Myrcella's nose and she began to die in my arms, I wanted nothing more than to sail back to Dorne and put your head on a spike. After you, I would've done the same to all of your bastard daughters." He lifted his gaze back up to her. "But this is… it's not human."

Elliara breathed out something that sounded like words, but they were far too quiet to hear. Jaime leaned his ear to her, nearly touching it to her lips. "Save…her…"

Jaime looked back at the corpse rotting on the ground and sighed. "Tyene's dead." Elliara just kept breathing the same words over and over again. Tired of what he saw, Jaime drew his dagger and without hesitation, he stabbed Elliara at her heart. She didn't even flinch when the steel pierced her flesh and was pulled out.

Jaime's dagger slipped out of his fingers as he stood up. He didn't bother to retrieve it, he just left it on the ground and he exited the cell and started walked back the way he came. He couldn't help but wonder how many more were in such a condition. His escort followed him closely and Jaime decided he needed to be alone. "I won't be needing you two anymore today."

"But Ser Jaime, we've been instructed by the queen to accompany you." One of them said.

Jaime turned around to face them. "And I'm instructing you to fuck off. If you're still following me when I exit the Red Kapp, I'll give you the honor of dying by a Valyrian Steel sword."

Jaime turned back around and kept walking, leaving his escort where they stood as they followed his orders. He didn't understand what he was feeling. But he wanted to be alone.

* * *

As he wandered through the streets of Flea bottom in the early of the evening, looking for somewhere he could drink without being surrounded by sellswords and soldiers, Jaime was stopped when he heard a woman singing. It was a song he'd never heard before and the tune was soft and inviting. He decided to follow the song to the singer and saw a young woman at the corner of the road, playing a harp as she sang. She had long brown hair and had a fine figure. Her face was beautiful and her voice matched her looks. He caught her eyes and she gave him a small smile, inviting him closer to her.

"Lovely song," He said, "I can't say I've heard it before."

"It's a new one." She told him.

"Did you compose it yourself?"

"No, the King did."

 _'The King.'_  As far as Jaime knew, there was only one person with that tile in Westeros. "You'd call the Bastard of Winterfell your King when you live in a city ruled by the rightful Queen?"

The women held back her laughter, but amusingly smiled at Jaime. "I know who you are, Jaime Lannister. Anyone would when you carry such a sword and wear your hand of gold so openly."

Jaime looked down to both his sword and hand, unsure of how he let such an onbvious detail slip past him. "And yet, you'd denounce my sister as your Queen all the same."

"I'm a Northerner. We have something that very few of you have south of the North."

"And what's that?"

"Honor." The woman set her harp down and leaned it against the wall of a home. "Your sister murdered hundreds when she blew up the Sept of Baelor, including Queen Margery and rumors are going around that she's running out of food to feed us. As for the Lannisters who're dead, your father played a great part in the Red Wedding. Joffrey was a cunt, everyone knows that, even you." She wasn't wrong about that. "The only Lannisters I thought were good souls were King Tommen and Princess Myrcella, but it was all because of your sister that they died in the first place." She wasn't wrong about that either. Tommen loved Margery even if she was manipulating him. But Myrcella's death happened because of him, Tyrion, Cersei, and their father. If Cersei had listened to him, Tyrion might've been spared from a trial, but him letting Tyrion free led to their father's death. But then again, all of this was because the great Tywin Lannister ordered the death of babes and hated a dwarf he was forced to call his son. "If you tell right now that the city, no the country would be better with them still alive, I will find the nearest Gold Cloak and give myself up."

Jaime shook his head at her. "Why're you here then? If you have no allegiance to Cersei of this country, why don't you leave?"

The woman's brow arched high. "You're right. Tomorrow, I'll get on the next ship sailing for White Harbor and go home."

"There are no ships leaving for White Harbor."

"Oh, that's right. We're at war and the ships are being used to defend the city. In that case I'll pack up my things and travel on foot, with no money or protection to get me there."

Jaime felt like a fool for assuming as much. Cersei had raised the cost of food and living to a great amount to pay for the war. It was then that he realized something he missed from her earlier statement. "What about me and my brother?"

"What?"

"You named my sister, my father, my nephew-"

She gave him a glower for not stating the obvious.

"My  _'son'_ , but you didn't mention me or my brother."

"The Imp might be a Lannister, but he's doing the right thing supporting King Jon and Queen Daenerys. As for you… there are few who know why you killed King Aerys."

Jaime's expression went blank for a moment before regaining his composure. "You don't look old enough to remember the Mad King."

"No, I was only five, but my mother was servant in the Red Keep. She told me how you saved the city from Wildfire when you broke your oaths. You fulfilled your vows as a knight to protect the innocent. But even then, you couldn't stop your father from sacking the city." She gave him a small smile that lifted his spirits up a bit. "I know it might be late, but thank you doing what you could."

This was the first time Jaime was ever thanked for what he did without having to tell someone about it. He felt a new feeling rush over him hadn't felt many times before, only when he talked with Brienne. "You know, it wasn't even an hour ago that I killed someone."

"Who was it?"

"Elliara Sand."

"The one who killed Myrcella."

Jaime nodded his head and sat down and a nearby barrel. "I hated her with every bit of myself as I could. When I saw her brought before Cersei in chains, I felt satisfaction. Cersei told me she killed Elliara's daughter with the same poison that killed Myrcella. Again, I felt satisfaction. I never went to see her in her cell until today. I thought she would be dead by now, in fact I prayed to the gods she would be. But instead, I saw her barely holding onto her life and her daughter's corpse was still rotting in front of her." The North woman looked saddened when she that. "Why is it that when I saw her like that, I felt regret for the woman who killed my daughter?"

"I don't know," She walked up to Jaime and planted a small kiss on his lips without any resistance from him. "Why did I do that to a man who fights against my King?" Jaime couldn't resist her any longer and pulled her back to him and kissed her more. He didn't know why he desired her. He didn't even know her name. But she didn't lust after him like Cersei did, she was comforting.

She brought him to her home and they both embraced each other for the entirety of the night. Jaime had only ever been with Cersei, yet this was felt greater. It felt like what we long for from his sister, but never got. Before the sun rose with the first light, Jaime had already dressed himself as the woman lay asleep in her bed. Before he departed, he left her his entire purse and wrote a note on a parchment for her that read –  _'Sing in the North.'_

As he passed through the gates of the Red Keep, he was stopped by two of the guards. "Ser Jaime," one of them said, "the Queen has summoned you to appear before her."

"This early? What for?"

"She didn't say, ser. If you'll please follow us."

"Of course." Jaime had no idea why Cersei would be up at this hour. It was daybreak and she never woke up this early.

When he finally appeared in the Throne Room, Cersei was sitting on the Iron Throne and the Mountain stood next to her being ever protective. Jaime finally made it to the base of the steps. "You sent for me, your Grace." He noticed purple bags under her eyes and she was radiating with anger.

"Ser Jaime, I understand that you killed our hostage in her cell. But you were kind enough to leave the weapon you used." She was mad about Elliara's death.

"I only quickened her fate. She wouldn't've lasted through the next moon anyway. It's a miracle she lasted as long as she did."

"It wasn't a miracle, it was because I made it so." Jaime became estranged. "I had Qyburn giving her something that would have prolonged her life in that state. But you ended it."

"Tyene was rooting in front of her. You had your revenge and there was no reason to keep her alive."

"No reason? Now that she's dead, Dorne has no reason to hold back their armies anymore. We had leverage against them but you threw it away."

"You were torturing her beyond what she deserved!"

"What she deserved? She murdered Myrcella and declared for the Dragon Whore. Who are you to decide what she deserved?"

Jaime slowly walked up the steps to the throne until he stood above Cersei. "Myrcella knew about us," he spoke softly, "she knew I was her father and those few seconds I held her in my arms was the only time I've ever been able to be a father to any of our children."

"And I've been a mother to them their whole lives." Cersei blinked a few times as if waking up from daydreaming. "But I can forgive you for this. Only if you do something for me."

"What?"

Cersei looked past Jaime and nodded at a guard next to the doors of the room. He and one other opened them and two Gold Cloaks walked in, dragging someone with them. Jaime turned around and realized it was a woman, but it wasn't until they reached the foot of the steps did he realized who.

They threw down the North woman and she slowly got up to her knees. Her face was bruised and bloodied from many beatings. When she looked at Jaime, she didn't look angry or sad. She looked sorry.

"Kill her." Cersei ordered. Jaime looked back at her, his mouth open with disbelief. "I told you never to betray me again. If you want to prove that, then serve justice to one who would support the usurpers in the North. If you refuse to do so, you will be displaying loyalty to the Targaryens which is punishable by death."

"Cersei-"

"I am the Queen, you will address me properly in court!"

Jaime looked down to the North woman who nodded at him ever so slightly. He knew she didn't want to die, but she wanted him to live. His hand shook as he slowly gripped the hilt of Widow's Wail and unsheathed his sword. He walked down to steps and when he was in reach, he rested the blade on the North woman's shoulder. She looked directly at Cersei before boldly speaking. "Winter is Coming."

Jaime raised the sword up, only needing to swing it down to complete the deed. But instead, her let go of the sword and let it clang to the ground. He turned around to face Cersei. "I am a knight, sworn to defend the innocent, not to murder the defenseless."

Cersei stared him down, but her response was calm. "That's fair. You're my brother, and I can understand the importance of meaningless things to men, like honor and duty." Her gaze turned back to the North woman. "But the sentence still stands. And since you do not want a beheading, I thought of something better." Before Jaime could react, the Mountain pulled him away as the Gold Cloaks dragged the North woman away from the steps and to the center of the room. The Mountain wrapped his hands around Jaime's arms and held him in place as a third Gold Cloak entered the room carrying a small keg with him. As the two men holding the woman released her, the third uncorked the keg and poured a familiar green liquid on her.

Before Jaime could object or do anything, one of the men struck a flint and the yellow sparks ignited into green fire and the room filled with screams that he never wanted to hear again. As the flames rose and scent of the air turned to burning flesh, Jaime lost the strength in his legs, but the Mountain held him up. He wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn't seem to.

Even when the body stopped moving and the fires began to die down, Jaime could still hear the screams. He looked over to Cersei and saw her smirking at what remained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The deal is sealed


	52. Davos IV & Arya V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we begin, I'd like to apologize for the delay. I pretty much wrote three chapters and hated all of them before writing this one. It's mainly filler, but just power through it. Next Chapter will be the Great meeting of the Seven Kingdoms.

Davos

It felt good to see the mighty castle that was Storm's End once again. The great fortress built into the cliffs against the sea hadn't changed save for the absence of any Baratheon banners. The tower in the center of Storm's End touch the clouds of the aftermath of a light rain. The Snows of winter did not yet arrive, but the cold winds did. The caravan was only a few miles away and already a group of riders from the castle were approaching them from the castle.

Davos and Beric rode at the head of their entourage followed by the Lady Brienne and the Hound. Gendry had fallen back to ride next to the carriage that Lady Arya rode in. She could've traveled by horse if her wound had healed quicker, but she was confined to a luxurious ride much to her dismay. The window to the carriage was open and they were in the middle of a conversation as the riders got closer. "Gendry!" Davos called. Gendry looked over to him and realized what was going on. He spurred his horse forward towards the others and slowed down when he caught up.

As the riders from the castle reached them, the caravan came to a halt, except for Davos, Brienne, Beric, and Gendry who all rode next to each other along with two men following behind, carrying the Stark banner and the new Baratheon banner. One of them rode forward, a elderly man dressed in plate armor and wearing a surcoat with the sigil of a green shark in a black ocean beneath a blue sky. "My lords, I recognize some of you, but not all. I am Ser Jasper Willem, the appointed castellan of Storm's End. I'm surprised you came back, Dondarrion, after renouncing your lordship and claims."

"I was needed elsewhere," Beric responded, "and if you're worried I've come to take back what I gave up, that is not my purpose."

"Then what is?"

Beric looked over to Gendry and Ser Jasper's gaze followed. "This Gendry," Davos announced, "last surviving bastard of Robert of the House Baratheon, naturalized by Queen Daenerys Targaryen, rightful Lord of Storm's End and the Stormlands."

The men who followed Ser Jasper looked at each other in surprise as he rode closer to Gendry and inspected him before turning his attention to Davos. "You're loyal to the Targaryens now, Seaworth? The House that Robert waged an entire Rebellion over?"

"I am. I hope you received the one of the ravens we sent out about the truth of the Rebellion?"

"We did. It was hard to believe, but we believed it none the less. But why are you following them? Why are you following the Mad King's offspring?"

"You know the saying, 'every time a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin and it lands on either madness or greatness.' With all that's happened, it's safe to assume they landed on greatness and after seeing what's coming for all of us from beyond the Wall, we need everything we can get."

Ser Jasper turned his gaze back to Gendry. "I've lived in this castle my whole life and I only ever saw Robert a few times after his rebellion. I must say, you do look him." Ser Jasper turned to Ser Davos. "Are there any others to support his claim?"

"I do," Brienne said, "I am Brienne of House Tarth, Lady of Tarth and the Evenfall Hall."

Ser Jasper bowed his head to her. "My condolences to your father, my lady."

"Thank you, Ser."

"I support him as well." Davos informed. "I think we know each other enough to skip the introduction, Jasper."

The knight smiled at him before returning his gaze to Gendry. "Tell me, are you good with a sword?"

"Not at all," Gendry informed, "I prefer a hammer."

Ser Jasper kept his smile and slowly nodded at Gendry. "Just like Robert. Welcome home, Lord Baratheon."

The inside of Storm's End wasn't like any other castle. The entire keep was built for one thing when it was first raised, and that was war. Even with the years that passed since it's birth, the castle remained as it was. No lord would dare be foolish enough to remove any of the castle weapons. The walls had many catapults built into them facing the land and the sea.

Davos, Beric, Brienne, the Hound, and Gendry were brought to the War Room while Arya was sent to be treated by a maester. The War Room was very large and spacious and located in center tower. The Room was surrounded with wooden benches with the backings up against the walls and in the middle of the room, carved into the floor was a great map of Westeros. The stone dipped and rose from the floor copying the elevations of the country.

Ser Jasper took a seat in one of the benches after telling a servant to fetch drinks for them all. "So, my lord Gendry, what are your intentions?"

Davos was ready to speak for him, but Gendry stopped him. "It's okay," he told him, "I can do this." Gendry walked over to the Crownlands and loomed over King's Landing. "I was told the numbers of the Stormland's army were four thousand."

"That is correct."

"We need them ready to venture to the North immediately after the meeting with Cersei Lannister."

"I had a question about that, my lord." Jasper stood up from his seat and walked over to Gendry. "What is it exactly that's coming from the North?"

Gendry looked at him for a moment, not saying anything to him. But it looked more like he didn't know what to say. 'An army of dead men' was the truth, but they weren't in the North anymore so it wouldn't be as believable as it was tp others.

"Why don't you accompany us to King's Landing and see for yourself."

"My lord, you honor me with such an invitation."

Gendry looked back to the map, but now his gaze was on the Stormlands. "Which Houses are the major of the Stormlands?"

"House Baratheon now, Houses Tarth, Dondarrion, Swann, and Wylde."

"I need one lord or lady from two of those houses to accompany me to the meeting, any you 'd recommend?"

"My lord," Brienne interjected, "forgive me for my assumption, but I was under the impression that Lord Beric and I would be representing the Stormlands with you."

"You don't need to ask for forgiveness. The two of you were my first choices, but then I realized that you've already seen what's coming and you've fought them. I need people who haven't seen what you have so they can realize the truth of what's really at stake."

"Makes sense," Beric said, "Lady Brienne and I can help organize the armies for the journey north while you worry about the meeting with Cersei."

"Sounds good," Gendry said, "so, Ser jasper, who do you recommend?"

"If the Lady of Tarth won't be able to, then I would suggest Lady Ramona of House Dondarrion and Lord Kurtis of House Wylde since their troops make up the most of our forces."

"Then let's get a raven sent to each of them. Invite them here first and we'll travel to King's Landing together and meet with the others. While that's all taking place, send a raven to the Iron Islands with a request to ferry our soldiers to White Harbor."

"At once, my lord." Ser Jasper said before two servants entered the room. One of them brought water glasses for everyone, but the other went directly to Ser Jasper and whispered something to him. "Oh, thank you. I can't believe I completely forgot."

"Is there a problem?" Davos asked.

"Not at all. However, there is a gathering of the castle's residents in the main courtyard. They're hoping to see their new Lord."

"How many are there?" Davos asked.

"Just over four hundred people."

Gendry turned pale when he heard that. He never was one to desire being the center of attention. "It's alright lad," Davos said as he walked up to Gendry and patted him on the back, "they just want to see you and hear a few words."

"Couldn't I just be silent?"

"Be pretty awkward if you did."

Gendry thought about and nodded his head as he took one of the glasses of water from the servant and gulped it down.

As the came outside, Gendry stood at a stone railing in the middle of two staircases that both led to the courtyard grounds and beheld a great massing of common folk. Davos stood close to him in hopes it would be comforting, but he could notice Gendry's hands were starting to shake. The silence started to drag on before Davos nudged Gendry's foot with his own.

Clearing his throat first, Gendry stood up straight and raised his voice. "My name is Gendry Baratheon, last surviving bastard of King Robert Baratheon." This caused much muttering amongst the people, but Gendry pressed on. "I was naturalized by the Queen Daenerys Targaryen, who I have pledged my loyalty to. I understand that there will be much discontent among many of you. My father waged a rebellion against her family after all."

Davos was getting the feeling that he would have to step in soon, Gendry was backing himself into a corner.

"But such things don't matter now. Winter is coming and the storm that follows is one we won't live through if we continue things the way we are. We can't afford to let the quarrels of the past get in the way of our survival and our future. I promise you all now, I will do everything in my power to make sure that get have such a future." Gendry stepped away from the railing and began walking back into the castle, Davos following closely.

"Could've been better," Davos commented, "but not bad."

"Do you where Arya was taken?"

"Follow me." Davos didn't blame him for desiring her company. She was the only one he could talk to as a friend and not an advisor. Though there were times he and Gendry would have moments like that, but that's all they were.

Davos waited outside of the room Arya was given while she and Gendry conversed. The door was left open and he occasionally snuck a glance and listened to their voices. At one point he noticed Gendry holding Arya right hand in both of his, moving his fingers over her skin and inspecting every detail of her fingers.

It wasn't until he saw them start to lean their heads close together that he took a step back from the doorway and gave them some better privacy. A few minutes later Gendry came out of the room and closed the door behind him. "How much time do we have before we leave for King's Landing?" Gendry asked.

"The ravens were sent. If all goes well, maybe five days."

"More than enough time." Gendry patted Davos on the shoulder and wore a smirk he couldn't be rid of as they walked throughout the hallways. "Is there anything that needs my attention today?"

"At the moment, no."

"Good, then I need to find a forge."

* * *

Arya

The next couple of days were steady as Gendry was able to make time for all of matters that required his attention and at the end of each day he would spend the rest of his time at the anvil. The Forge he was given pleased him greatly as it was twice the size of what he had in Winterfell and his tools were of the highest quality. He didn't let anyone in to watch him though, he said he had a project he couldn't let anyone see until it was finished. Many people were bustling from one place to another. Gendry warned them all of what was coming and now he needed them prepared. The air was filled with the sounds of hammers striking hot steel, constant chatter among farmers delivering grain, and the clashing of wooden training swords belonging to young lads wanting to become soldiers.

On the third day of the arrival, Davos was welcoming Lord Wylde and Lady Dondarrion into the keep. After they met with Gendry and Beric, Davos brought them into the War Room organizing the movement of the Stormlands' forces to the North. They hadn't received word from the Greyjoys yet so they had to resort to either marching or gathering what ships they had to ferry the soldiers. But before they could even go through with anything, they had to wait for many of the lords who had men to provide swear fealty to their new lord. He was in the War Room with Ser Jasper, standing next to the Stormlands.

Arya was finally allowed to out and about to her own business, but she was still not aloud to practice yet, but her wound was nearly healed, so it would only be a few more days. She was in Great Hall sitting at a table across from Sandor, Brienne, and Podrick. She never spoke to the Hound much, even when they first saw each other at Riverrun, they just acknowledge that the other was alive. This actually bothered Arya, but she tried not to show it.

Arya was given a serving of salted sea bass and Brienne had the same, but Sandor stuck with eating a chicken. He tore through the meat of a wing while Arya struggled to just cut a small piece for herself. The fish nearly slid off the plate and Arya was starting to become frustrated. "Here," Sandor stole her plate and knife and cut her fish for her, "should've gotten the chicken. You can just use your hands the whole time." He slid her plate back to her with her fish cut up and resumed to eat his food. "Where'd you go after you left me rotting in the Vale?"

"Braavos. I learned how to become a Faceless Man."

Sandor snorted at her. "And yet you still got stabbed in the arm?"

"I wouldn't aggravate her if were you." Brienne told him. "She can fight just as well with both hands."

"Doesn't matter," the Hound spat back, "she still took a knifer in the arm." Arya didn't allow herself to get angry with him. He was right and it was her arrogance that caused her to make such a mistake. "So tell me, girl, are you still dancing, or are you fighting?"

Arya looked up from her plate at him. "Both." Though she was glad they were finally talking, she wanted to change the subject. "I heard you joined the Brotherhood without Banners."

"I didn't join those cunts, I only traveled with them. Wound up spending a month at Eastwatch in a cell until your King brother freed us."

"You went with Jon beyond the Wall?"

"Didn't know why we were going, I just wanted out of the cell. The men of the Watch are nothing but foreigners from Essos and cunts from the Seven Kingdoms who hate Wildlings."

"Is there anyone you don't think is a cunt?" Brienne asked.

"Nope."

Arya smiled as he bit into his chicken, hardly giving attention to anyone else. It made her feel like she was home.

The Valyrian Dagger was kept at Arya's side whenever she wasn't inside the castle, the remnants of Needle rested on her nightstand in her room. Regardless of being unable to train, the winter days felt longer than they did in summer. Arya was alone on the top of the tower of Storm's End, looking out to the North and reaching her hand up to touch the low storm clouds that came close to her.

"Of all places to be, you had to choose somewhere up the most fucking stairs in the world." Arya turned around and saw Sandor resting his hands on his knees, exhausted.

"You're getting old, Clegane." Arya told him.

"Last time someone said that to me, I killed the closest person next to me."

"What do you want?"

Sandor caught his breath and walked over to her. "I was bored and wanted to see if you're still as shit a fighter as you are a dancer."

"Brienne said I shouldn't fight until I'm healed."

"Fuck what she says. Do you think if you lose an arm on the battlefield, you wait for it to heal?" Sandor drew his sword and pointed the tip onto the stone floor. "I heard how you lost the hand. You have speed, but you lack strength. If you could've used that fingerless soldier's sword, you would've made it in one piece. He drew a smaller sword st his side and handed it to Arya. "Now show me what you've got."

Arya held the sword in her hand and felt the weight and shape of it. It was no Braavosi blade, but it would do. She held it behind her back and waited for Sandor to make the first move. In an instant, he raised his sword and swung it across at Arya. She ducked under it easily and slapped her sword on Sandor's swordhand before attempting to bring the tip near his neck. His sword moved quickly and parried it away. Arya retreated a few steps backs to create distance between her and Sandor's reach. He rushed forward at her, but instead of waiting for him to come, she advanced and let her knees fall to the ground and slid forward, dodging the swing that would've sliced at her. Using the pommel, Arya slammed her sword on the back of Sandor's knee, causing him to buckle. Before he could recover, Arya spun around and charged at his back, shoving him forward and onto the ground. As he rolled over , Arya dropped the sword and drew her dagger, jumping on top of Sandor's chest and held the blade to his neck. "Yield." She ordered.

Sandor mockingly smiled at her. "I told you, you have speed," he quickly grabbed the blade and with little effort, pulled it from her hand and tossed it to the side, "but you lack strength." He lurched forward and cupped his hands underneath Arya's shoulders and lifted her off the ground. "Fucking hells, couldn't you have grown even a little in the time we've been apart?"

"Shut your hole and let me down."

He set her to her feet and retrieved his sword while she retrieved hers. Sandor picked up the dagger and inspected it. "Valyrian steel. If I had a greatsword made of this, I'd finally be able to cut off my brother's empty head." He offered the dagger to her and she accepted it after she returned her sword. "You name that thing as well?"

"No, it wasn't mine at first. I don't know if it had a name before though."

"Keep it that way. You're already a girl with a broken named weapon, you don't need another, but you will need something bigger against the dead." Arya chuckled at him and the dagger was returned into its scabbard. "Did you learn all that in Braavos?"

"It's a long story, but you could say learning was a punishment for killing someone I wasn't supposed to."

"And who was that?"

"Meryn Trant."

Sandor burst into heavy laughter after she said who. "You killed Meryn fucking Trant? Oh, I always knew he could be bested by any little girl with a sword, but he had to actually do it."

"I didn't use a sword, I had a knife."

Sandor burst into laughter once again and Arya couldn't help but laugh with him a bit. "Kill anyone else on your list?" He asked as he calmed down.

"Walder Frey."

"That was you?" Sandor looked at her before staring out into the distance. "Now it makes sense. I heard Walder poisoned his whole family before turning into a young girl." He looked back at her impressed, for the first time Arya ever saw him. "You wear people's faces?"

"I don't, no one does."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"To wear a face, I have to be no one. If the faces are worn by someone, they're poison."

"Still doesn't make any fucking sense."

"If I put on a face you didn't know I did, and then I walked right passed you, who would I be?"

"Nobody I'd care about to ask. But what if I know it's you?"

"Then I'm someone wearing another person's face. That's what I can't let happen again."

"What happens if you do?"

"I went blind for a while the first time I did it. I'm not sure if that happens every time, but there is always a punishment."

Sandor just shook his head. "Enough talk, I need some ale."

"I'll join you."

* * *

On the day of the departure, ten Greyjoy ships arrived at first light with Theon, Yara, and two other of the Ironborn lords. Arya wasn't pleased to see Theon at all, in fact if he hadn't rescued Sansa, he'd be on her list.

She was nearly done packing her things before there was a knock on the door. "Yes?" She called out.

"It's Gendry." He answered.

"Come in." The door opened and Gendry stepped inside, both of his hands were behind his back. Hanging on his belt was a new Warhammer he forged. It was similar to his first one, but this one was meant to be used by one hand and was only his arm's length.

"I heard your arm's finally healed."

"It did," Arya replied as she revealed her left arm. It was unbandaged and revealed a terrible scar still in a light shade of pink.

"I made you something, if you'd want it." Gendry pulled his hands out from behind his back and Arya beheld a Water Dancer sword. The length was a few inches longer than Needle was, but she had grown since she first laid hands on her sword, so this one was just the right size. The hilt was similar to Needle, except the pommel had a howling dire wolf etched into it. "I thought you could use a gift for your recovery."

Arya took it in her hands and inspected the blade. Fresh forged steel always had a glimmer to it. "It's beautiful, Gendry. Thank you."

"I thought about giving it a name, but then I realized that should left to you."

Arya thought about what Sandor said and decided that he could fuck a goat, she wanted a name for her sword. But thinking of one that had meaning at the moment was a challenge. "I'll name it after I spill blood with it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a review! It makes me happy!


	53. Tyrion V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! Next chapter will come quicker, I promise.

Tyrion

For the first time in many weeks, Tyrion found himself in a place where the lands all around were not covered in snow. Though he only wished that he could be somewhere that didn't smell of shit even when the source was miles away. The skies were filled with a light blanket of clouds that contained the heat of the sun, giving everyone the relief of not needing any winter cloaks. But the air was still chilly like the damp after a spring rain. In the no too far distance the, sounds of birds chirping could be heard, bringing a peaceful mood to those that could hear them. Tyrion felt incredibly upset that such a day couldn't be enjoyed for a nice lunch outdoors, or even for a game with friends. Instead everyone had to waste it to agree not to kill each other.

With the mercy of being granted into the city, Tyrion and his escort walked along the roads that led to the Dragonpit. He was followed by Ser Jorah, Missandei, Varys, and Qhono leading ten of his best men. The Dothraki present were men who fought at the Blackwater Rush against the Lannister and Tyrell forces and all of them wore looted armor and weapons. Unlike the Dothraki who went to the North, they had to make their own clothes that would be suitable for the winter and all of them wore the fine cloaks or leather coats of men they killed who fought against them. Behind all of them was jackass pulling a cart that held a wooden crate that contained the most dangerous type of soldier in the world, and the only hope that could unite the realms for a greater purpose.

As they all drew closer to the crumbling structure that was once a place to be feared, Lady Missandei couldn't help but inquire about the place. "Why did they build it?" She asked.

"Dragons don't understand the difference between what is theirs and what isn't," Ser Jorah informed, "land, livestock, children. Letting them roam free around the city was a problem."

Unfortunately, Tyrion had learned that such a prison for dragons was needed in any city they housed at when he first arrived in Meereen. The story he heard of Drogon burning a three-year-old girl had devastated him, and he couldn't imagine how it affected Daenerys at the time. But they had to push forward and look ahead, ever so careful not to let such a thing happen again. "I imagine it was a sad joke at the end." He commented. "An entire arena for a few sickly creatures no smaller than dogs. But in the beginning, when it was home to Balerion the Dread, it must've been the most dangerous place in the world." Considering how faster Drogon had grown during his time in the North, it would take only a few more months there for him to finally reach Balerion's size and surpass the legendary dragon of Aegon the Conqueror.

Approaching Tyrion and the others from and intersecting road were about sixty men dressed in the red Lannister armor and led by none other than Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. "Maybe it still is." Jorah said. Both parties come to a halt as the faced each other where their paths would cross. Compared to the Dothraki, the Lannister forces looked unified and disciplined, all marched together in perfect synch and in fine lines. But the traits they lacked that the Dothraki had were ruthlessness and intimidation.

"Welcome, my lords." Bronn announced. "The other lords arrived here before you did, cept for the Night's Watch. I've been sent to escort you all to the meeting." He gestured his arm down the road he and his men came from and the soldiers parted ways. There was brief moment of doubtful silence before Tyrion nodded to Qhono and he led everyone down the road. The Dothraki took the lead and everyone else fell near the back, sticking close to the cart. "Come on," Bronn called out to Tyrion, "best not fall behind."

As Tyrion and Bronn pushed their way to the front of the line, Tyrion could barely overhear talk behind him. "What's in there?" A Lannister soldier asked.

The only reply he receieved was from a Dothraki who didn't speak the common tongue, but Tyrion had learned enough to know he said  _'fuck off.'_

"What?"

"He said  _'you'll see.'_ " Missandei lied.

The Dragonpit grew closer as Tyrion walked side by side with Bronn. "He we are," Tyrion said, "the heroes of Blackwater Bay. It's a strange place for a reunion."

"Got that right," Bronn confirmed, "you ever been here before?"

"In my younger years when King Robert ruled. I found a small dragon claw and took it back to Casterly Rock. Two days later, it disappeared from my chambers and I've never known what happened to it even till this day."

"I'm sure no one will mind you taking another. Who knows, if your King and Queen end up ruling and put their own dragons in here, you might be able to take home a skull one day."

"Actually, Daenerys plans on tearing this place down. She's going to let her dragons have the entire island of Dragonstone. Not a cage to rot in."

"She'll have to secure the goods in the Red Keep first." Bronn turned his gaze to Tyrion, his brow arched high as they walked. This meant he was ready to leave King's Landing except for one thing he needed smuggling.

"Luckily the odds are faring on our side." This was the signal for Bronn, letting him know that he was ready to receive his cargo. Bronn turned his gaze back in front of him onto the road ahead. They had to keep up appearances to avoid any unwanted ears listening.

"Speakin of her, where is she? Seems a bit odd she wouldn't be with her Hand."

"She's on her way with the King. They'll be here soon."

"Shame. Was hopin I could get a better look at her today than I did trying to shoot down that huge fucker she rode. But diplomacy's not my thing. I'm just the greeter."

"Been thinking of our Queen lately? Perhaps you've been reconsidering your allegiances. Remember my offer, whatever they're paying you, I'll pay double."

"And that would be double of what now, exactly?" Varys asked. His help orchestrating this entire bribery to Bronn would not go unthanked when this was over. "Two castles and two highborn ladies?"

"I don't need two women fightin over their inheritance when I'm dyin. Don't you worry about me, I'm doin alright looking after myself."

"Are you?" Tyrion asked. "Helping me to arrange this meeting wasn't exactly looking after yourself, was it? You put yourself at risk."

"I put  _'yourself'_  at risk, important difference. It's your head Cersei's offered a castle for, not mine. Now thanks to me, she's got two traitor's heads coming right through her door. She can lop them both off as soon she gets tired of the clever words that pour out their pie holes. All thanks to Ser Bronn of the fucking Blackwater. If that's not lookin after myself, I don't know what is."

Tyrion had to admit that he missed Bronn's annoying cleverness since he first escaped King's Landing. "It's good to see you again." He admitted.

Bronn cracked a faint smile that brought comfort to Tyrion for once. "Yeah, you too."

Finally, they all began to enter through the crumbled passage that led into the arena of the Dragonpit. In the center was a wooden platform, but not nearly enough room to seat all of those attending. Instead, circling around it, where chairs under canopy tents and banners identifying where each representative would be seated. In the order from the closest to the entry starting from the left, the banners of the Vale began, followed by banners of pure black for the Night's Watch, the Targaryens, the Stormlands, the Maesters of the Citadel, the Crownlands and Westerlands, the Reach, the Iron Islands, the North, the Riverlands, and finally Dorne.

Just as Bronn had already told them, the only vacant seats were theirs, Cersei's, and the Night's Watch. While everyone else got situated at the area for the Targaryens, Tyrion decided to try and establish a good first impression with the other lords. He walked onto the wooden platform and decided to first try and give some comfort of apology and sympathy as he approached Lady Melessa Tarly.

She was seated down between two lords and accompanied by five guards. The lord to her left had a patch sewn into his tunic of a red gold fox on ermine, the sigil of House Florent. The other lord had a patch of a white watchtower with a flame lit atop, the sigil of House Hightower.

"Lady Tarly." Tyrion greeted.

"Tyrion Lannister," she replied sternly, "I suppose you're the one to thank for organizing such a gathering?"

"I am, my lady. But for reasons as to why, I feel it would be best to wait for everyone else to arrive."

"Then if you would so kind as to leave me be, I would feel more contempt with being here."

He suddenly had a pain of guilt latch onto his stomach that made him feel sick if he did not say anything. He knew why she was acting coldly and she had every right to be. "I'm sorry about your husband and your son-"

"Just, leave." She was in no mood for his apologies or sympathies. Tyrion kept his eyes to the ground, afraid to look at her as he bowed his head and turned to go sit down with his others comrades. He felt that maybe smalltalk would be best saved for after the meeting when everyone would be curious and confused rather than angry and on edge.

It wasn't long after he took his seat that a small party of four men all in black from the Night's Watch walked into the Dragonpit. Samwell Tarly was among them, but he was the only one Tyrion recognized. Two of the others had brown hair and beards, but the lengths were opposite to eachother. The third man wore his hood up and a mask covering his face. Something curious to Tyrion was the color of the man's hands. There were a light blue and felt cold just looking at them. While they were situated, Samwell decided to greet his mother and even one of the Maesters from the Citadel, though they didn't seem pleased to see the other. When Sam rejoined his brothers of the Watch, everyone was graced by the presence of Queen Cersei Lannister and her Queensguard. Tyrion was surprised to see she had a significantly swollen belly and it didn't take a maester to tell that she was pregnant. She was escorted by none other than the Mountainas one of her Queensguard, dressed in black armor and his face was covered more than the stranger from the Watch. He couldn't imagine how even a great lurking man such as he could've survived such a wound from Oberyn's spear.

Something that worried Tyrion was Jaime. He didn't look at anyone when the entered the arena, not even his little brother. His faced reeked with sadness and his eyes were bloodshot. His gaze kept to the ground even as he took his seat. What Tyrion saw wasn't his older brother, he saw a man chained to a woman who thought she was a queen.

Tyrion wanted to go over and say something, anything to Jaime, but his chance was taken when Sandor broke off from Gendry's party and walked right up to Cersei's area. Before he got close to her, the Mountain walked in front of her and blocked his brother's path, but it wasn't Cersei that the Hound wanted to see.

The two Cleganes faced one another, the Mountain standing only a few inches taller than the Hound. "Remember me?" Sandor asked. Gregor showed no sign of response, but he didn't need to. "Yeah, you do. You're even fuckin uglier than I am now. What did they do to you? Doesn't matter, it's not how it ends for you, brother. You know who's coming for you, you've always known." Sandor walked away from the Mountain and off of the platform and out of the Dragonpit the way everyone came in.

"Come on Pod," Bronn called out as he followed Sandor's example, "let's go have a drink. We got no place here." Podrick had accompanied Gendry and Ser Davos while Brienne and Beric remained in the Stormlands to Tyrion's knowledge. Podrick rushed after Bronn and the two of them walked out of the arena together with Bronn put one of his arms on Podrick's shoulders.

When they left, Tyrion met Cersei's gaze for the first time and he didn't recognize her. "Where are they?" She asked him. He didn't need to ask who for Tyrion to know.

"They'll be here shortly." Tyrion said with volume. Everyone would have to speak up given how far apart they all were from each other.

There was a long awkward silence that followed. Most of the people present were in conversation, but it was only amongst the ones they came with. All of that stopped when the sounds of the dragons screeching were made and everyone turned their gazes up to the sky. Above the Dragonpit, four dragons circled high above in the air. The first one to fly down was Rhaegal and as he landed on the rows of stone benches in the upper parts of the arena. Many of the lords and ladies couldn't help but get out of their seats and back away. Rhaegal roared out to all of them as he slowly climbed down to the dirt ground and lowered his body. Jon took his time to get down from Rhaegal's back and gently hopped off to the ground.

As Rhaegal spread his wings and took back into air, dust clouds rising from the power of his wings, Drogon took his place, but his movements were more careful and slow. They needed to be given that his rider had two babes within her. As Daenerys started to climb down, Jon extended his hand to her just before she was to let go of Drogon and step onto the ground. She gladly took her husband's help and gracefully dismounted her dragon. The two of them waited for Drogon to go back into the sky before they walked together, arm in arm, to their respective seats and advisors.

Tyrion couldn't help but feel pride in the two of them. They each wore their crowns and showed no doubt in themselves. These were the rulers that Westeros needed. As they sat down together, Jon's dragons both perched themselves on opposite sides of the Dragonpit arena. Cersei had her guards, and Jon had his.

The other lords and ladies that were frightened by Rhaegal and Drogon's entrance returned to their seats. The only one who looked marveled at the whole ordeal was Robin Arryn of the Vale. He had a large grin as he continued to watch the dragons flying.

Once everyone was situated, one of the Maesters of the Citadel arose from his seat and walked to the center of the platform to address everyone. "Today marks a momentous occasion, the likes of which has never happened before in the history of our great country. To avoid conflict and turmoil, today and today only, no one will be addressed as the rightful rulers of Westeros, only claimants. Will that pose a problem?" He looked over to Daenerys and Jon, waiting for their response.

"It will not." Daenerys told him. The maester turned his gaze over to Cersei and Tyrion could feel he wasn't the only one holding his breath.

"Likewise." Cersei said.

"Then let us welcome all. Representing the Crownlands and the Westerlands, heir to the Iron Throne by right of marriage, Cersei of House Lannister. Joining her today, Lord Jaime of House Lannister and Captain Harry Strickland of the Golden Company." He refused to announce Qyburn as he turned to the Targaryen seats. "Joining us today. Jon and Daenerys of House Targaryen, heirs to the Iron Throne by right of blood. Joining them as advisor, Tyrion of House Lannister." Tyrion sighed as he realized this was going to take a while for the introductions to get out of the way. "From Dorne," the Maester continued, "Lord Edric of House Dayne, Quentyn of House Qorgyle, and Dagos of House Manwoody." Edric was only a boy of near twenty and sat between men more than twice his age. "From the Reach, Lady Melessa of House Tarly, Leyton of House Hightower, and Alykene of House Florent. From the Stormlands, Gendry of House Baratheon." Tyrion noticed Cersei twitch at the mention of Gendry's name. Gendry scowled at her before calming down. "Supporting his claim as lord, Ramona of House Dondarrion and Kurtis of House Wylde. From the Riverlands, Lord Edmure of House Tully, Jonos of House Bracken, and Tytos of House Blackwood. From the Vale, Lord Robin of House Arryn, Yohn of House Royce, and Lyonel of House Corbay. From the Iron Islands, Lord Theon of House Greyjoy, Rodrik of House Harlaw, and Dunstan of House Drumm." Sitting beside Theon was his sister, Yara. "From the North, Lady Sansa of House Stark, Rodrik of House Forrester, Lyanna of House Mormont, and from the Wildling Clans, Tormund Giantsbane." Next to Sansa was Arya. "From the Citadel, I, Archmaester Ebrose have been chosen as the representative while the other maesters accompanying me will record what will transpire. And finally, from the Night's Watch, Lord Commander Eddison Tollet, First Ranger Jack Ironsmith, Samwell Tarly, and… I'm afraid I wasn't informed of the fourth man's name."

The man with the blue hands removed his hood and his mask, earning many gasps of some of all who saw his decomposing face. "Benjen Stark." Sansa and Arya both looked wide eyed and happy to see their uncle.

The Archmaester shook his head out of his quick daze and resumed his introduction. "Yes, well then, I present Tyrion Lannister, who will present his case to us all."

Tyrion got out of his seat as the Archmaester returned to his. Feeling all eyes and ears on him, he did not want to prolong the silence anymore. "For too long, our country has been plagued by civil war, over and over. We've all lost many we've loved in the wars of our fathers and our own. It's only now that we are graced with a small time to cease such nonsense amongst ourselves. But unfortunately, it is just before the point of too late that all of you will learn that this constant squabbling for a chair of swords is nothing compared to what's coming for us all."

"And what is coming for us all?" Cersei asked, a tone of mockery slithered through her words.

Tyrion looked over to Jon and let him take lead of the revelation. He stood up from his seat and walked onto the platform next to Tyrion. "Six years ago, I was sworn into the Night's Watch. The day I took my vows, my direwolf found the bodies of two rangers at the weirwood just a mile north of the Wall. The night we brought them back, one of them attacked Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, but I managed to stop it."

Cersei failed to contain a bit of laughter as Jon spoke. "I thought you joking little brother," she said, "I didn't think it would be this bad."

"If you wouldn't mind," Tyrion said, "please wait until he finishes." Cersei shut her mouth and turned her gaze back to Jon, waiting for what other 'nonsense' he had to say.

"Lord Commander Mormont let a Great Ranging Beyond the Wall. Our mission was to defend the realms against an army of Wildlings and to investigate the rumors of White Walkers and an Army of the Dead. We planned to find them after dealing with the Wildlings, but they found us. I was a prisoner of the Wildlings when it happened, but there were three hundred men camped at the Fist of the First men, and only three who fought against the dead made it back south of the Wall. Lord Tyrion tells me that a million people live in this city. If we don't unite together, they'll become a million more soldiers in the army of the dead."

"Is that what that is?" Cersei looked over to Benjen. "He looks to be just fine, better than most of my subjects. Maybe they should join him."

"Don't you dare compare me to what they are," Benjen called out, "I'm what's just before death and after life."

Cersei smirked at him. "Seems the only way to kill Starks is to take off their heads."

Tyrion noticed Arya's hand grip her dagger tightly as she tried to step forward, but Tormund stopped her. Tyrion could see the rage in her eyes and never once saw someone with so much intent to kill.

Even the young Lady Mormont took offence to Cersei's statement, and instead of using steel, she used words. "And the only way to kill Lannisters is… everyway it seems. Poison, wildfire, a crossbow, even gravity." Cersei stared down Lyanna with her emerald eyes and such a comment finally got Jaime out of his despair as he looked up. Lady Mormont was not intimidated at all and had the ferocity of the bear on her sigil.

"Everyone, please." Tyrion interjected, brining Cersei's attention back to him. "Can we not even have an hour without the desire to kill someone here? We thought you would have your doubts, but we brought something to show you." Tyrion and Jon backed away as soon as Sandor returned on cue, lugging the large crate over his back. When he reached the center of the platform, he dropped it and began to undo the many locks on it. When the last piece of metal was removed from the hinge, Sandor tore the lid off the crate and quickly backed a few steps away.

Everyone remained silent as nothing happened and continued to be that way. Irritated, Sandor kicked the crate over and without warning the undead soldier rapidly crawled out and screeched as loud as it could. Everyone jerked in their chairs from shock as the creature began to run as fast as it could at Cersei. It would have reached her before her guard could react, but Sandor pulled onto a chain that was attached to a collar around its neck and dragged it onto the ground. It's cold blue eyes turned to who stopped him and the undead soldier got up and sprinted to Sandor.

Just before it reached him, the Hound drew his sword and with a powerful slash, he separated the soldier's body from its legs. Even after such a wound, the legs jerked around as the body began to slowly crawl to the nearest living person screeching and biting at the air.

Tyrion looked around at all who watched and everyone who saw the undead for the first time was wide eyed and open mouthed, marveled and terrified. Ygris and Lyarras began to shift and looked uncomfortable to be near such a thing. As the wight tried reaching a hand out to Sandor, he easily cut it with his sword and the hand sailed to where Cersei was. She remained in her seat, but Qyburn got out of his and picked up the hand, the fingers continued to move. He observed it for a moment before Jon walked up to him and was given the hand.

Davos had got up from his seat and walked to Jon, bringing a torch and flint with him. He gave to torch to Jon and lit it with the flint. "We can destroy them by burning them." Jon held the hand in the flames and it ignited as if covered in oil. He dropped the hand and handed the torch back to Davos, then walked over to the wight's twitching legs. "We can also us dragonglass." he drew his dragonglass dagger and held it up for all to see right before he knelt down and stabbed the legs in the thigh, relieving them of movement. He stood up and sheathed his dagger and approached the remaining body. "And we can use Valyrian Steel." Jon drew Longclaw and planted the blade into the chest of the wight and the terrible screeches ceased and the blue of the eyes disappeared. "If we don't win this fight, then that is the fate of everyperson in the world." He sheathed Longclaw and walked directly up to Cersei, she being the one who had to hear this. "There is only one war that matters, the Great War, and it is here."

Cersei only looked mystified and exchanged glances with Qyburn and Jaime. "I didn't believe it until I saw that thing," Daenerys said, directing her words to Cersei, "I still didn't believe the evil they were. Then I saw someone I care for turned into one of them and I lost one of my dragons to the Night King. And now he rides atop my child, regrouping his army before he marches on the Wall."

"How do you know such things?" the Archmaester asked, looking terrified as almost everyone else.

Sansa stood up from her seat and took the chance to explain to all. "My brother Brandon acquired abilities beyond the Wall. He's what is called a warg and can enter the minds of animals. He's been following the Army of the Dead using a flock of ravens." She was smart about not mentioning his other ability.

"Impossible," The Archmaester said, "such a thing cannot be done."

"After seeing an undead man tried to kill someone," Tyrion said, "you're in denial about the possibilities of other magical powers that are manifesting in this day and age? It seems Samwell Tarly was right about the Citadel. It's full of nothing but intelligent fools."

"Lord Tyrion," Jon said, "it's alright. I can show them." Without any delay, Jon's eyes turned white as snow and the eyes of Lyarras flashed that same color before returning to her own. She started to slowly climb down into the arena and crawl to the lords and ladies. She was mindful of them and stopped as soon as her head loomed over Jon's.

"I think you've made your point." The Archmaester said. "I apologize." Lyarras carefully returned to where she perched before Jon eyes became his own again.

"You said your brother is watching them," Jaime said, "how big is the army?"

"Just over two hundred and twenty thousand," Sansa onformed. Jaime's face turned from concern to horrified as the number was said and many of the lord's and ladies murmured with each other as Sansa took back her seat.

"This is no longer about who has power over who," Jon said for all to hear, "it's only about one thing, survival." Whatever our past quarrels are, whatever strife we have with one another, it doesn't matter. The only way we can win is if we band together, all of Westeros! I'm not asking you to fight for me, I'm asking you to fight with me. If we don't, there'll be nothing left to fight for." He turned his attention back to Cersei. "We're outnumbered and we don't have enough dragonglass for our current forces. The only mine we know of is on Dragonstone."

"I know of it," Cersei told him, "Captain Strickland's men found it while scouting the islands." She took a deep breathe, looking at the wight's body once more before back to Jon. "You're right. If those things come for us, there will be no more Kingdoms to rule. Everything we've suffered will be for nothing, everything we've lost, will have been for nothing. The crown accepts your truce, but my forces will remain here." This caused discontent and confusion to grow among everyone. "I have full faith that you will defeat the dead with your glass weapons and dragonfire. But when the battle is over, do you expect me to think that all will be well? That our soldiers will share drinks with each other and say farewell before they face off in the wars to come?"

"Who do you take him for?" Arya asked aloud. "Walder Frey or your father? In the North, we don't slit the throats of our guests who fight with us on the battlefield or dine with us at weddings."

"I wouldn't have agreed to this meeting if I thought you Starks were without such a thing like honor. It's what got Eddard Stark and his son killed. A mistake I doubt you'll make again." Cersei stood up from her seat. "But as a sign of good faith, I will allow you to have your precious glass and your armies to pass safely through the country. And while you're gone, my forces will keep the peace from any who are coward enough to take advantage of lands vacant of soldiers. At least in the lands I hold." She began to walk away from them all and out of the Dragonpit with her guard, Harry Strickland, Qyburn and Jaime following her.

Tyrion's gaze fell to the ground as he felt defeated. "Without her armies, we're fucked."

"If the others lords help us, we'll stand a chance." Jon said.

"A chance isn't good enough in this situation." Tyrion exclaimed. "I've gone over the numbers. Even if the other lords pledge to fight with us, we're still thirty thousand men short. And as powerful as the dragons are, they're not invincible against the White Walkers. We can't afford to lose anymore than we already have."

"Then what do you suggest?" Jon asked furiously. "Should we buy mercenaries from Essos? We don't have enough gold to buy even half of the difference."

Tyrion sighed, calming down and recollecting his thoughts. He looked around to all of the other lords and ladies and saw them conversing with the others from there regions. "My Lords and Ladies!" Tyrion called out, bringing all attention to him. "I beg of you to give me some time to try and remedy things."

"How can you expect to fix this?" Lord Harlaw asked aloud. "You said we don't have a chance without her forces."

"She was being rash. Give me a chance to talk to her and try to convince her."

Daenerys got up from her seat and walked over to Tyrion. "I'm not going to let my Hand be killed. I could see the hatred she still harbors for you."

"If I wanted to die, I would've stayed in my cell long ago. I will go speak to her, and I will go alone. Or we ask for volunteers now, fight outnumbered, and die."

Daenerys looked disbelieving, but she nodded her head, showing faith in him. Tyrion walked off the platform and followed after Cersei escort, hoping the steps he was taking weren't his last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I please you all? Leave a somment and tell me how I did adjusting things.


	54. Jon XVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Daenerys attempt to build trust some new allies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully one of the last filler chapters I write

Jon

Watching Tyrion leave was like watching someone walking away to the executioner's block. Jon couldn't help but think he had as much chance of surviving as his uncle had at Joffrey's mercy. He couldn't help but feel worried after all. It wasn't until after he left that Jon thought of what would happen if he didn't return. Would the Dothraki and Unsullied outside the city attack? Would there be war today because of a half man's willingness to try and get more than what was given? The only thing that brought calm to Jon's mind was Daenerys's hand holding onto his as they were seated under their canopy.

Many of the Lords and Ladies had gotten out of their seats and were going about their own business. Whether it was observing the architecture of the Dragonpit, talking with representatives of another realm, or even taking a light walk within the arena, Jon and Daenerys were the only ones in their seats.

"He'll be back." Daenerys told him. "He's always managed to talk his way out of things, no matter how bad the odds were."

"Maybe I should learn from him. Might not die as much." He hoped that would bring a smile to her, but instead it brought distress.

"You shouldn't joke about such a thing. I can't bear to let the man I love leave me and our children alone in this world again."

"I didn't mean that way and I don't plan on leaving." Jon stood up from his seat and Daenerys followed. "Let's walk at least." They intertwined their arms and took a stroll around within the walls, Qhono, Ser Jorah and two other Dothraki following closely.

"We're the last hope for our family, Jon." Daenerys held him tightly. "Even if we win the war, as long as Cersei is on the Iron Throne, we'll never be safe."

"You don't have to tell me. While I was beyond the Wall, I was even thinking of trying to convince you to stay in the North."

"You wanted me to abandon the reason I came here?"

"I did. I didn't care about thrones or who sat on them then, to be honest I still don't, but not as much as before."

"What changed your mind?"

"A few things. Seeing the Night King again gave me the desire to do everything I could to keep you safe. I discovered that I'm going to be a father." He stopped in his tracks. "Before I woke up from a nightmare in an inferno of red fire, I had a vision."

"What did you see."

"I was in the Throne Room of the Red Keep. I was standing there, watching as a woman was dragged inside and accused of supporting us. I couldn't do anything, but I could feel her emotions as she was sentenced to execution. Fear, anger, sorrow, even regret."

"Who was she?"

"I don't know. Whoever she was, she did something to anger Cersei. I watched as Cersei had her burned alive with Wildfire and her screams were unlike anything I've heard. The moment right before I returned to myself, I looked at Cersei, but instead I saw the Mad King, smiling as the woman was being roasted alive. I'd never been as scared as I was then. Then I realized that the woman's screams had turned into my own."

Daenerys sighed and leaned closer to him. "Do you understand now, why we need to take back the Seven Kingdoms?"

"I do. We can't let another Mad King rule over us all again. But first we need to make sure that we live long enough to prevent it." He turned to her and planted a light kiss and her forehead.

They resumed their walked and treaded over to a spot in the arena littered with dragon bones of a small size. Arya was there with Sansa and Benjen who was inspecting a small jawbone.

The Starks took notice of Jon and Daenerys and they looked happy to see them. Jon was relieved to see Arya alive, but couldn't help but be upset when he saw her hand of silver. "I'm glad you're alive Arya." Jon told her.

"Really?" Arya asked, unfazed by his presence. "After not seeing each other for weeks and losing a hand, all you have to say is 'I'm glad you're alive Arya?' I freed the Riverlands from the Lannister control in less than a week of being there. I was hoping for more praise."

"I heard. But you didn't have to do it single handedly."

"Shut up!" Arya punched Jon in his shoulder, but she was smiling when she did it. Her smile faded away when she took a moment to just look at Jon's face. "Sansa told me you died, but the red witch brought you back."

"Which time was she talking about?"

"You've died more than once!?" Arya raised her voice enough that a few people nearby overheard her.

Jon cleared his throat, trying to keep things calm. "Twice." He told her about the mutiny at Castle Black and what happened after he warged into Rhaegal beyond the Wall. He even promised to show her the scars on his chest when the returned to Winterfell. After he finished explaining things to he, Jon turned his attention to his uncle Benjen. "I'm surprised to see you here uncle."

"I delivered Longclaw at Eastwatch after your dragon took you, but I had to go back North to help the last of the living Wildlings that hadn't gone south yet. I went to Castle Black after that and had to be pulled through the tunnel on a damn sled."

"Why?" Sansa asked.

"The spells keeping the dead from passing the Wall only prevent them from crossing at their will. Technically I was carried at someone else's." Benjen handed to dragonbone jaw to Sansa and gazed at Daenerys. "Forgive my manners, your grace. My name is Benjen Stark, former First Ranger of the Night's Watch." He gave a courteous bow to her.

"There's no need for forgiveness," Daenerys told him, "I'm always glad to meet more of my husband's family."

"We're your family too." Arya insisted. Jon's heart skipped a beat when she said that. Arya was a fierce warrior, but still able to be a kind soul. "Speaking of family, Sansa also told me that it's going to get bigger."

"Indeed, it will. I have a dragon and a direwolf within me and they'll be just as strong as their father."

"Have you thought of names yet?"

Jon realized that he hadn't, and Daenerys never talked to him about it either. "Do you have suggestions?" Daenerys asked.

"If one of them is a boy, you can't name him Eddard. It doesn't sound right as a Targaryen name, no offence."

"None taken." Daenerys told her. "I think such things should be handled when we're all together, back home in Winterfell."

Before they could continue, they were all approached by the Dornish Lords. "Your majesties," Lord Edric Dayne said as he stood before them, "I was hoping I could have a word with both of you." Edric looked no older that twenty and had had bright black hair. His face had not been shaved recently and his was slightly taller than Jon. His eyes were the most intriguing feature about him. They were the color violet, but a lighter shade than what Daenerys had.

Jon looked at his family and wished they could speak more, but such things could wait. "We'll take our leave." Benjen said as he walked away with Arya and Sansa.

"Forgive my intrusion," Edric said, "but the matter I have is of importance and shouldn't be delayed longer than it already has."

"Of course," Daenerys said, "please, tell us your concern."

"With the help of your spymaster, Lord Varys, I have learned that Elliara passed away not long ago in the Black Cells, hence House Dayne becoming the leading family of Dorne."

"My condolences."

"Thank you, your grace. Though my house now rules, I plan on returning power to the Martells when the oldest of Oberyn's daughters comes of age. However, that's not what I wish to discuss." Edric shifted in his position and looked nervous to continue. "After seeing what you've presented to all of us, the other lords of Dorne and I have agreed to march our forces to the North to fight the dead."

"That's wonderful to hear."

"However, if we do win against the dead, I will have my forces return to Dorne and remain there."

"What?" Jon was just as puzzled as Daenerys.

"Elliara pledged to your cause because she demanded vengeance for Oberyn, but she murdered Prince Doran to obtain her power. Honor compelled me to obey her and I did. But now that the Martell forces are nothing but food for the fish and Elliara dead, I have decided to honor what my Prince wanted for his people. Too many have died already and there will be many more wives that will be waiting for their husbands to return to them, only to learn they never will."

"Lord Edric, I implore you to reconsider."

"Make no mistake, my Queen, I do not plan to declare Cersei as the true ruler of Westeros. I only ask that you give a time of respite for my people. Even I desire to live to see my wife and children over a battle. I will fight for Westeros, but the battle for the Iron Throne belongs to whoever wishes to claim it."

Daenerys didn't have an answer for him. She looked upset, but also understanding. Usually this would be when Tyrion would say something to help her, but he wasn't here. "I have a proposal for you, Lord Dayne." Jon said. "We will give you what you ask. After the Great War, Dorne's armies may return to their home during the War for the Throne."

"Thank you-"

"But only on one condition."

"What would that be?"

"You cannot commit to such a decision until after the Night King is defeated and the ones who died fighting are given burials and mourned for." Jon's plan was that hopefully after a unified battle was over, the other lords and ladies would have realized that they are all stronger when they are together and will prosper greater if they continue to be.

Jon expected Daenerys to be resentful of such a plan, but she didn't. She looked pleased and waited for Edric's answer. "I do not think such a request is unreasonable." Edric said, pleasing Jon and Daenerys. "I accept your terms." He held his arm out to Jon and he gladly accepted it.

Before they let go of each other, Jon took notice to Edric's sword and the details of it. It resembled Robb's sword, but the pommel had a rising sun etched into it. "Is that Dawn?"

Edric's eyes looked done to the sword on his belt. "No, I'm afraid I haven't earned the honor of being the next Sword of the Morning. This is my families Valyrian steel sword, First Light."

"I didn't know House Dayne had a Valyrian sword."

"It's rather new. My uncle Arthur fought an Essosi mercenary who wielded a Valyrian sword and Dawn cut through the steel like bread. The Mercenary left with the top half and my uncle took the bottom half. I don't know what became of the hilt, but after my daughter Ashara was born, I thought it would be a waste to continue to let such material gather dust like Dawn. So I had it reforged into First Light with a Valyrian steel goblet House Dayne had in its vaults." He drew First Light from its scabbard and showed the blade to Jon and Daenerys. The blade had two fullers that ended in the middle of the blade's length. The ripple patterns were present in the steel except for the edges.

"The craftmanship is marvelous," Daenerys commented.

"You honor me with your praise, your grace. I hope that one day I will wield both of my family's swords as the next Sword of the Morning.

"I have no doubt that you will." Jon said.

"From what I've heard about your skill, you'd be wielding Dawn if you were a Dayne, your grace. There have been stories told of your power even in Dorne." Whatever the tales were, Jon had never heard them.

"I've learned that it takes more than sparring to become a better swordsman. Real fights aren't as merciful as a duel in a training yard."

"If you don't mind me saying, but I think we'll be here for a while and the mood's been rather dull. Would you care for duel, your grace?"

Edric was bold to ask such a thing, but Jon couldn't help but agree with him. The mood was very dull. "I don't think it would be wise to use live steel, especially the sharpest kind in the world."

"Neither would I. I know you're good enough with a sword to kill your opponent, and I have faith that you're good enough to be able to strike without giving injury. We could use my men's swords. The steel is strong and we it would be a controlled duel."

Jon smiled, amused at Edric's persistence. "It's tempting, my lord. But Cersei and Lord Tyrion may return any moment from now."

"Not likely, they're going all the way back to the Red Keep." This was very confusing. The Red Keep was miles away from the Dragonpit. Why walk all that way for a conversation just to walk back. "How about a wager then? The goblet wasn't the only Valyrian steel in Starfall's vaults. A hundred years ago, one of my ancestors found a lost relic of the Targaryens, a crown to be exact. Aegon the Conqueror's."

"House Dayne found it?" Daenerys asked, intrigued.

"I'm not sure about the details, but we found it all the same. I'll be sure to return it to you if you can beat me in a duel."

"It's a fine wager," Jon told him, "but I'm afraid I don't know of anything I have to offer that you'd want."

"Actually you do." Jon raised his brow, curious of what treasure he possessed that he was unaware of. "My wife just had our third child, my second son."

"That's wonderful to hear, Lord Edric." Daenerys told him. "What name have you given him."

"Arthur, like his uncle. If I can best you, I would ask that you would take him as your ward when he reaches the age of ten."

This caught Jon off guard. Here was a young Lord who'd never met him before, asking to raise one his children. He looked at Daenerys, hoping for any sign of support or advice she had. But to his dismay, she looked pleased with the idea. "My lord, I don't think I could accept such a task. I'm not sure I'd be the best choice."

Edric smiled at him. "It's no secret to my family that many young lads of great Lords dream of being knights of House Dayne. Eddard Stark even confessed it to my father at the Tourney of Harrenhal. But have you ever wondered what the sons of Dayne dream of being?"

"Dragonlords of House Targaryen?" Jon guessed.

Edric shook his head, containing a bit of laughter. "We dream of being Starks of Winterfell. Though the rest of the world views the North as a land of barbarian lords and savages, House Stark is always seen as a house of honor. The Starks have suffered great losses in the past thousand years, but they always rise back. Just as their words say, Winter is Coming, and just like the snows of winter, the Starks cannot be stopped. You have been raised as a Snow, you have the name Targaryen, but before me is a Stark of the North. I could not ask any better men to raise a son of mine because there are none."

Jon felt flattered and embarrassed at the same time. He never knew that someone could idolize his family so much.

"You have a wager." Daenerys agreed, surprising not only Jon, but Edric. She looked up to Jon, acting as if it was obvious to accept. "I think such a proposition would establish a great alliance and friendship with our two houses. And we do need more friends that aren't in the North."

Jon sighed at his wife, unable to refuse her wish. He didn't say anything as he let go of Daenerys and undo his cloak. The moment he took it off of his shoulders, he instantly felt cool air surround his back and it was relieving.

He folded it once in his arms and handed it to one of the Dothraki that accompanied them. "Your crown, my love." Daenerys reminded. Jon gently grasped the steel crown and removed it from his head. Daenerys took it from him and held it carefully in her hands. Jon finally untied his belt and wrapped it around Longclaw's scabbard before offering the sword to Ser Jorah as Edric Dayne did the same with First Light.

"Qhono," Jon said as the Dothraki Bloodrider looked at him, "could I borrow the longsword you have?" Jon pointed at the Lannister sword sheathed at Qhono's hip as Daenerys translated what he said.

 _"Of course, Khal."_ Qhono said as he drew the sword and gave it to Jon.

As Jon held it in his hand, he took notice to the feeling of the sword. Even though the blade was smaller than Longclaw, it weighed just about the same since it didn't have the reduced weight of Valyrian steel. "Let's do this on the platform." Jon said as Edric was given a broadsword and the two of them walked onto the stone platform.

Others who were on it took notice to them and backed aware, unsure of what was going on. Jon and Edric both faced each other and readied themselves. Jon took his stance and stood side face with his sword close to his chest and his free hand in front of him for balance. Edric pointed the end of his sword at Jon as he kept both hands on the hilt and kept it close to his chest.

"I'll try not hit you." Edric said.

"As will I." Jon replied.

Neither of them moved from their positions as they observed one another. Both of them adjusted their footing of their stances and the positions of their swords. Edric finally took the initiative and advanced and Jon decided he would take the defense to observe his form.

Edric made for a lung at Jon and the blade was easily parried, the sound of the steel clashing echoed around the Dragonpit. Edric's move were fast and light, only meaning to attempt at catching Jon off of his guard. Jon was constantly blocking Edric's sword and was even nearly disarmed twice. Edric's form was refined and precise and his style was a mixture of a Knight of Westeros and a fencer of Essos. But as Jon continued to observe Edric, he could see that his flaws were in his emotions he put into each strike. His strikes were over confident and sometimes too bold. His strikes all had the intent to lure Jon into a riposte rather than directly trying to attack.

Jon finally decided to switch to the offensive and blocked one final strike from Edric and locked their swords. He pushed Edric back and advanced on him, aiming for his center and keeping his attention on Jon's sword and away from his footwork. Jon raised his sword and swung down to Edric allowed it to be. The moment their swords clashed, Jon used his free hand to grab onto the pommel of Edric's sword and twisted it out of his hand. Before Edric could realize what had happened, Jon disarmed him and held his sword at Edric's neck and Edric's own sword at his chest. "I yield," Edric said. "I didn't think to be disarmed with such a simple technique."

"Sometimes the simple techniques work better than the flamboyant ones." Jon said as he pulled the swords away and offered Edric's back to him.

Edric smiled at him as he gladly accepted defeat. The two of them shook their hands in recognition of the other's skill and earned some praise from the audience of lords and ladies.

"King Jon!" Jon and Edric both turned and saw Robin Arryn approaching them with Yohn Royce and Lyonel Corbay following closely as his guard. "That was an excellent fight. I was wondering, could I touch one of the dragons?"

"My lord," Yohn interjected, "I have observed the dragons for some time while at Winterfell and they don't take kindly to strangers."

"But the King can control them! He can tell them to do whatever he wants."

"Lord Arryn," Daenerys said as she walked up to Jon and the others, "the first thing you should know about dragons is that they're not like other animals. They're not pets you keep in a kennel, they're not for anyone's amusement. That's how they vanished from the world. They were locked in here and became what creatures become when they're caged.  _zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor,_ a dragon is not a slave."

"But then what are they if they're not your pets? Isn't that what all animals are?"

"My dragons aren't animals to me, they're my children. My husband even calls those two his daughters." She looked up to Ygris and Lyarras who were both resting peacefully on the walls of the Dragonpit.

Wanting to change the subject, Jon took notice of Lord Corbay's sword at his side. "Beautiful weapon Lord Lyonel. Am I correct to think that your sword is your family's Valyrian sword, Lady Forlorn?"

"It is, your grace." Lyonel grabbed the scabbard and pulled forward so that the hilt was in better view. The pommel was a silver Raven's head and the center of the guard were talons holding a red stone shaped into a heart. "It seems that many others here today have brought their family weapons as well."

"Let's go take look! I want to see them." Robin exclaimed to his lords.

"As you wish, my lord." Yohn Royce said as he and Lyonel bowed their heads and followed their young lord.

"What is it with boys and swords?" Daenerys asked.

"We else are they supposed to desire? Girls?" Daenerys giggled little as Jon held the Lannister sword to Qhono who retrieved it from him. Jorah and the other Dothraki returned Jon's things to him, but Jon only retied his sword belt and left his cloak off. He let Daenerys crown him and the two of them took a moment to enjoy where they were while they could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be Tyrion's face off with Cersei


	55. Tyrion VI & Jaime III

Tyrion

Never once was the mood in the Red Keep ever bright when Tyrion had lived in it. But compared to now, those days were pleasant memories. All of the women in the castle had taken to a similar appearance to Cersei's current fashion of short hair and dark clothes. In fact, nearly everything but the castle itself had taken to darker colors since his last day in King's Landing.

In every hallway he walked, every passage he took, the eyes of those Tyrion passed viewed him with anger, disgust, and even dread. After all, almost every person Tyrion recognized was present during his trial and heard his wishes of death to them all.

Tyrion was constantly battling questions in his mind for the answers.  _'What do I say? What is she planning? What the fuck am I doing back here?'_ Those questions all halted when Tyrion stood across from Jaime, outside of Cersei's solar. The door to the room was guarded by the Mountain. Here he was, in the most hated city in Westeros, outside a room with the most hated woman in Westeros, guarded by the most dangerous man in Westeros.

Jaime looked just as sad and pathetic as he did in the Dragonpit. This was something new for Tyrion. He never saw his brother this way even when he returned to King's Landing without his hand as looking like horse shit. Something about him was broken. At the moment, Jaime was rubbing his thumb against the gold of his hand while sitting on the stone railing surrounding the painted map of Westeros.

"Have you spoken with her?" Tyrion asked.

Jaime only shook his head, looking down at his golden hand.

"She wouldn't let you in?"

"No, I have no business with her." Jaime took his gaze off of his hand and onto his little brother. "I'm terrified of her just as much as you are."

"I never expected you to be as such towards our sister."

Jaime only sighed at Tyrion, looking unsure of himself. "Bronn told me when you sent a ship full of Wildfire against Stannis Baratheon's fleet at the battle of the Blackwater Bay."

"I was watching from the battlements of the Mud Gate. Bronn shot a flaming arrow at the ship and it decimated everything around it."

"Where you close enough to hear? When the fires of green fell onto the Baratheon soldiers and the ships began to sink, were you close enough to hear their screams?"

"I was. I was ready to kill any of them, but after witnessing what I did, I wish I did it some other way when I saw Joffrey smiling at the devastation. Even when the men tossed themselves into the water, they burned and screamed."

Jaime hesitated, taking in all of what Tyrion told him. "When I put my sword in into Aerys's back, I thought I would never have to see the atrocities he called amusement. When I sat on the Iron Throne waiting for father, I became relieved when I looked down at the charred stained floor of where hundreds of people burned alive and I watched every single one of them, knowing that not another person would join the stain. But now, if Daenerys doesn't win the throne, the world we live in will have to suffer a Mad Queen as well."

Tyrion's mouth gaped open as he recalled what he just heard. Cersei wasn't falling into madness, she was diving into it. "Why her?"

"Anyone would become mad when their children are murdered. Tommen was the only one-"

"No, not why is she becoming Aerys reborn, why are you still with her? Why in Seven Hells are you still here? Why are you still a damned fool in love with his sister?" Jaime didn't answer, he looked ashamed to, but he didn't need to for Tyrion to figure out the answer. "Her child, your child."

"It's the only thing keeping me here. It's the only thing that gives me hope."

"Hope for what?"

"Anything."

Before they could continue, the door to Cersei's room opened and the Mountain stood aside as Qyburn exited. "The Queen will see you now, Lord Tyrion." He stood next to his abominable creation and waited patiently for Tyrion.

Tyrion and Jaime both looked at each other, exchanging nervous smiles before Tyrion walked into the one place he did not want to be.

As he walked through the doorway, the Mountain followed closely behind him while Qyburn remained outside. The door was shut and Tyrion wasn't at all surprised to see a shattered wine glass near Cersei's bed.

Cersei was sitting at her desk, leaning back in her chair with one left arm resting her elbow on the arm of her chair and massaging her temple while her right arm rested at the base of her pregnant belly. Her facial expression revealed that she was recuperating from some displeasing news. Her eyes shot daggers as she looked at her brother. There were two vacant chairs opposite to her side of the desk. "Sit down." She ordered. Tyrion decided to oblige and sat in the chair closest to the desk. They each exchanged glances in tensed silence before Cersei broke it. "I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose. She's your kind of woman. A foreign whore who doesn't know her place."

There was no insult in the world that would make Tyrion break in front of Cersei. His love for Shae died when she betrayed him. "A foreign whore you can't abduct, beat, or intimidate. That must be difficult for you." Cersei always loved to watch those beneath her suffer. It was no mistake what Joffrey inherited from her.

"So you bring her hear with her bastard husband to sway the other lords against me?"

"Not against you." His words were ignored by her.

"And now you've brought her into your plans you've been working towards your entire life."

"Cersei, for once it's not about you."

"The destruction of this family." She stated. Tyrion wasn't at all surprised at her. Ever since the day he was born she convinced herself to think that all he was, was a demon who was born to kill Lannisters.

"I am the one who is preventing that from happening. Daenerys didn't want to debate and negotiate, she didn't want to bring you words, she wanted to bring you Fire and Blood, until I advised her otherwise and her husband supported me. I don't want to destroy our family, I never have."

"You killed our father." She reminded, the smallest of smirks present in the corners of her lips.

"After he sentenced me to death for a crime I didn't commit, yes I killed him." He never really saw Tywin as his father, only a man who belonged to such a label. Only once was he ever a father to him and it was on a day he decided not to drop his dwarf of a son into the ocean. "Both of you hate for what I did, believe it or not I hate myself for it, in spite of who he was, in spite of what he did to me."

"Oh the poor little man," she mocked, "your papa was mean to you. Do you have any idea what you did when you fired that crossbow? You left us open. You laid us bare for the vultures and the vultures came and they tore us apart. You may not have killed Joffrey, you killed Tommen. No one would've touched them if father was still here."

Tyrion did accept that a part of the blame of Myrcella's death. Even if it was Oberyn's choice to be his champion against the Mountain, he chose the trial by combat. But in the time he met with Elliara on Dragonstone, he had become convinced that she would've killed Myrcella even if he didn't kill his father. But Tommen's death was completely Cersei's fault. Varys told him how Cersei gave the High Sparrow power and armed the Faith Militant. She gave Margery and Loras to the Faith and Tommen loved Margery more than his own mother. But aggravating her and being correct was the last thing he wanted to be if he was ever going to get anywhere with her. "I have never been more sorry-"

"I will not hear it, I will not hear it!"

Tyrion was starting to lose his patience, if he was even allowed such a luxury in his current predicament. Jaime could only sit in his chair and listen. Why he was even in the room, Tyrion didn't know why at all. "Alright, you love your family, and I have destroyed it. I will always be a threat" He wasn't trying to mock her, but falsely accept her beliefs in him. "So put an end to me." She eyed him hatefully and resisted smiling, almost tempted to do as he suggested. "If it weren't for me, you'd have a mother. If it weren't for me, you'd have a father. If it weren't for me, you'd have two beautiful children still alive. I've thought about killing you more times than I can count." Tyrion got out of his chair and walked up to the Mountain, looking into his bloodstained eyes. "Do it!" He turned around and looked Cersei directly into her venomous green eyes. "Say the word."

Cersei's lips twitched, almost happily to give the order, but she sighed and leaned back into her seat. Tyrion couldn't help but breath nervously. He didn't want to die, but he practically spat on death's door. The only thing that would calm him down was some wine and he walked over to a small wooden table to pour himself some. He swallowed it down as fast as he could, not caring at all for the taste but only the effect.

He set his glass down and filled another with what remained in the glass wine pitcher. He returned to his sister and placed one of the glass on the desk. "I am more sorry about the children than you will ever know."

"I will not-" She hissed.

Tyrion gritted his teeth as he spoke. "I don't care, I love them. You know I did. You know it in your heart if there's anything left of it."

"It doesn't matter. Your love doesn't matter, your feelings don't matter. I don't care why you did what you did, I only care what it cost us. It cost us our future."

"If you have no future then what are you carrying inside you? Another child to be like Joffrey? Hated and despised by all except his mother and father. Or are you hoping for a child like the ones we all loved? Why did you allow me to come at all?"

"To make sure that you weren't plotting to turn an armistice into a surrender."

"We thought about doing that, but then we remember that there's something more important to be focusing on. You must see that now!"

"I do. This one time, I will set aside my desires and focus on believing in the stories we were told as children. What did you hope for when you came? Everyone would see that creature and bow to your dragonspawn rulers?"

"Eventually," he admitted, "but only when they would see who Daenerys was for who she is. That she isn't her father and wants to make this world a better place."

"You said she'd destroy King's Landing."

Unfortunately, Cersei was right about that. "She knows herself. She chose an advisor and married a man who would check her worse impulses instead of feeding them. That's the difference between you."

"I don't care about checking my worse impulses I don't care about making the world a better place, hang the world. All I care about is my future and making sure I have one with those that matter to me. So tell me, dear brother, what does your queen have in store for me? Will she burn me with dragonfire, or feed me to the peasants like she did with the masters and the slaves in Mereen."

"We haven't discussed such things yet. First we have to win the fight ahead of us before we can think of the justices and mercies that must be issued. And in order to do that, we need your armies to fight with us. Only when we have a force of equal size will we stand a chance. You heard what Daenerys said. One of he dragons was killed by one of the White Walkers. If we lose another to them, then they power the dead will hold will be enough to destroy everyone and everything in the world. Surely you want to live through such an ordeal."

"You're right, I do. So what bargain will you strike for my armies?"

"As much as you want it, you can't remain on the Iron Throne."

"It doesn't take a half wit to understand that. What will you give me that is worth my armies?"

"If you pledge your forces to Daenerys and Jon to fight against the dead, I will give you Casterly Rock and name you the governing Lady if you step down and renounce your claim to the throne."

"What would I want with Casterly Rock? Did father never tell you that the gold mines ran dry years ago?"

"He did, but if he bothered to not give up on them, he might've found two possible mines. And there's still Lannisport. It's the center of trade of the West Coast."

"I suppose you'll want me to kneel."

"No, that I can make sure you are spared of."

"And I suppose we'll all live out our days as if nothing ever happened."

"It's better than fighting against us. Even you don't fight with us and we win at the cost of half the entire army, you can't win. The Iron Fleet will still be ours, we'll have two dragons and near one hundred thousand men. All we have to do is lay siege to King's Landing and let the common folk rebel against you. You could of course, flee to Essos and start anew. But I doubt that you will."

Cersei sighed as she took the wine glass from the desk. She didn't drink much, only a single sip of it, but it was enough for to find an answer. When I return to Casterly Rock, I will be named Warden of the West. Your King and Queen will leave me be until my death. After that I don't give a damn what our children do."

"I'll do what I can to make that happen."

"I wasn't finished. There's one more thing I desire that I will have, or else there will be no deal."

"As long as it is within reason." What he already offered was beyond that.

"Vengeance for the Lannisters who've died ever since Ned Stark's execution. Though now that I think about it, Tommen and Myrcella have already been given that grace. Elliara's corpse rots next to her daughter's in the Black Cells, The Tyrells and the Faith are nothing but ash and rubble, so that just leaves father." She stared long and hard at him, making sure he knew of what she was asking and he did.

Tyrion locked eyes with her and could see someone else behind the eyes of his sister. She always wanted him dead, she tried to have him killed multiple times, but this felt different. It didn't feel like anger she bore towards him, it felt like a hunger that nothing but what she asked for could settle.

* * *

Jaime

Jaime was surprised when Tyrion came out of Cersei's room alive. He half expected him to be burned or cut in half by the Mountain. He did overhear some commotion, but the noise was too muffled to understand what they were saying. When Cersei stepped through her door, followed by the Mountain, she looked displeased as did Tyrion. Whatever they negotiated for, they failed.

He followed closely to Tyrion as they were all joined by Qyburn and the rest of the Queensguard on their long walk back to the Dragonpit. To save time however, Cersei had carriages brought to the Red Keep. She took one for herself and Qyburn leaving the other for Tyrion and Jaime. He would've preferred to ride on horseback, but he did want to talk with Tyrion.

As they rode out of the city and onto the roads to the Dragonpit, Jaime became surprised when he offered Tryion a small flask of wine he had and was refused. Never once in ever knowing Tyrion did Jaime ever see his brother refuse wine. It didn't stop him from drinking however.

"I take it Cersei refused?" Jaime asked.

"I only wish it could've gone better."

Jaime stared at his flask, contemplating his place in life currently. "What Castle did you give Bronn?"

"The Twins."

"You gave the Twins to Bronn?" Jaime took a moment to confirm what he heard. "I get the feeling he may be worse than Walder Frey."

"He promised to be more fair when it came to letting people cross the bridge. He'll be wealthy and loved, not having to give two shits worrying about men slicing his throat and feeding him pies made of his sons."

Jaime was able to smile for the first time in weeks. "And what highborn beauty will he take?"

"He never told me her name, only that she's the most beautiful woman in the world."

"I hope it's not the Lady of Bear Island. She's looks like she could stare a man to death with that gaze of hers."

"Believe me, she's tried doing that to me many times." They two Lannister brothers shared some laughter together, not knowing how much longer they would have such precious moments.

"Bronn offered to take me with him."

"I imagine you refused?"

"Yes, yes I did. But I wish I could go with him. I'm sick of this city, I'm sick of these people. I want to be somewhere that doesn't try to kill me."

"I'm afraid that's impossible. You live in Westeros, remember?"

"Maybe enough of us will be dead after the war that no one will care."

"I must disagree and hope as many of us as possible live through the war. Our family has been the center of the death of thousands for years now. I'm rather sick of it."

"We can agree on that, at least." There was a still silence between the two Lannisters as they drew closer to the Dragonpit.

"If you had the choice of how you die, what would you choose?" Tyrion asked while looking out of a window he sat next to.

Jaime thought about it. How would he die if he had his choice? "I know how you would. Lying in a bed in a castle as an old man with wine in your belly and a maiden's-"

"Shut up!" Tyrion demanded, annoyed. "Can Bronn not keep anything to himself?" Jaime couldn't help but laugh a little at his brother. Such a thing was typical of him to desire. "I wouldn't mind some wine and woman next to me when I go. But with everything happening, I don't care how so much as where. As long as my body rots anywhere that isn't King's Landing, I can die happy." Such a simple thing didn't sound so bad. "You didn't tell answer me yet." Tyrion reminded.

Jaime couldn't help but smile a little. "On an Island. Away from all the shit of Westeros, surrounded by nothing but trees and water as blue as sapphires and with someone who loves me."

The carriage came to a halt as the arrived back at the Dragonpit. The door opened for the two brothers and Tyrion was the first to leave, Jaime taking a moment to think that maybe such a wish would come true someday.

The Queensguard dismounted their horses and formed up behind Cersei and Qyburn as they all marched back into the Dragonpit. As the entered the arena, Jaime could feel the stares of the two dragons fall onto them and low growls resonated as the walked. To Jaime and Tyrion's surprise, the other lords and ladies of the realm were all seated while Jon Snow was dueling with his cousin, Arya. He was wielding a Lannister sword rather than his own Valyrian Sword while she wielded a very small rapier. Her speed was far greater than Jon's but he clearly had more skill than her. She nearly had an opening to his head, but a strong parry with his Longsword and using his free hand to smack the back of Arya's sword hand caused her to leg go of her sword. Before it even clanged to the ground, Jon had his blade at Arya's back.

"Dammit, you win." Arya admitted.

"Bravo, your grace!" Edric Dayne shouted as he and many others applauded. Others looked discontent as they handed over money to those sitting near them. Apparently they were making wages. Edric Dayne stood from his seat and approached the Targaryen King. "You've bested every swordsman here. I have no doubt you would stand level with my uncle if he were here to challenge you. Since you were once a man of the Night's Watch, I name you the Sword of the Evening."

Jaime had a small interest in this boy. Edric was very expressive and bold just like he was in his youth. All the cheer died down after Jon noticed that Lannisters had returned. Cersei stepped forward as Jon handed his sword off to one of the Dothraki.

"After much counsel from Lord Tyrion, we have come to an agreement. I will march my armies North to fight alongside you all. If the battle is won, you will grant them safe passage to return to the Westerlands and the Crownlands."

Jon couldn't help but smile a bit. "That's perfectly acceptable." He said.

"Then let us declare now," Edric exclaimed, "with the Maesters of the Citadel as Witnesses for all history to know. Dorne pledges its forces to fight the dead."

Melessa Tarly and the other liege lords stood up. "The Reach pledges it's forces to fight the dead."

"The Stormlands pledge their forces to fight the dead." Gendry said.

"The Riverlands pledge their forces to fight the dead." Edmure said.

"The Vale pledges its forces to fight the dead!" Robin Arryn said excitedly.

"The Iron Islands pledge their forces to fight the dead." Theon said.

"The North pledges its forces to fight the dead." Sansa said.

"House Targaryen pledge their forces to fight the dead." Daenerys said.

"The Night's Watch will stand will the Seven Kingdoms to defend the realms of men." Lord Comander Tollet said.

All eyes were on Cersei as she hesitated. "The Crown pledges its forces to fight against the dead."

Jaime attention turned to the Dothraki who watched in awe as all the lords practically proclaimed themselves to the Targaryens, to Jon. The one who Jon gave his sword to,quietly spoke something, but he couldn't understand what it meant. "Vezh fin saja rhaesheseres."


	56. Sansa IV

Sansa

Watching Jon and Daenerys take to the skies on their dragons never ceased to amaze Sansa. She couldn't help but envy what they had a little bit. The two of them were to fly over to the Dothraki and the Unsullied armies outside of King's Landing and order them to journey north. The majorities of the armies were outside the walls of the city, but there were still a garrison of each army at Highgarden and Casterly Rock. Daenerys would fly out to Casterly Rock and order the Unsullied to empty the keep while Jon would do the same at Highgarden. The only problem for him was that he didn't speak an ounce of Dothraki, but the problem was solved by having the translator Missandei accompany him.

Sansa was on a Manderly ship sailing back for the White Harbor with Arya, Tormund Giantsbane, Sandor Clegane, Podrick Payne, Tyrion, Lord Varys, and Gendry Baratheon. Theon had been kind enough to provide an escort of over one hundred Ironborn ships to join them. He captained his own ship and hosted Sansa and Arya's cousin robin Arryn and the other Lords of the Vale, along with Rodrick Forrester, Lyanna and Jorah Mormont, while Yara would return to the rest of the fleet with the Dornish and Stormlords to ferry the Dorne and Stormland armies. What remained would travel to Dragonstone to transport as much dragonglass as they could with what little time they had left which was just over a month according to Jon. Time was shortening and there was still far too much to do. Before she left Winterfell, Sansa had been organizing with the First Builder of the Night's Watch to have catapults and infantry shields made as quickly as possible.

The armies of the Reach which consisted of twenty-five thousand would join the Dothraki in Highgarden for the ride North while also transporting shipments of grain Daenerys was able to negotiate from Lady Melessa with the help of Sam. The Riverland armies were only waiting for Edmure to return to march to the North. The only armies Sansa was uncertain about were Cersei's. She could sense that Cersei wasn't lying about pledging her forces, but something didn't feel right. She couldn't help but suspect something.

As Sansa stood on the starboard side of the ship, watching as King's Landing shrank into the distance and the Red Keep was only a red dot. Finally, out of range of the smell of pig shit, Sansa took a deep breath of the open air and couldn't be happier to be far away from the city as possible. The clean air and smell of the sea helped calm her nerves, but she was still on edge about anything Cersei could be plotting.  _'Sometimes when I try to understand a person's motives, I play a little game.'_  Littlefinger's voice wouldn't detach from his words in her mind, but she wouldn't deny any of the teaching he gave her in this situation.

 _'What's the worst possible reason Cersei would declare her armies for us? To lie and retake the lands she lost. But that would only unite the country against her for going against her word. What if she truly did march them north to fight with us? Why would she do that? To get her army close to ours. But she's far outnumbered and if her soldiers turn against the others, it will be the exact opposite of what the Red Wedding was. Could she really mean to fight with us? All of it depends on if we win against the dead.'_  This was one situation that Sansa couldn't figure out, and she even doubted Littlefinger could. But with Bran's help then things would be easier to piece together. But passing the time until she returned was nerve racking.

"It's nice to leave King's Landing without having to be smuggled." Arya said as she walked next to Sansa and stood beside her. "Though I will admit it there was some fun traveling with the Night's Watch. I made many friends."

The two Starks turned their gazes from King's Landing to each other. Sansa eyed Arya's arm briefly. "Bran told me that Nymeria and Ghost saved you from the Lannister men in the Riverlands."

"Aye, them and Nymeria's wolf pack. I encountered them once when I was returning to Winterfell after ending the lives of the Frey men. It was much smaller then, but she was just as big. If I can't ride a dragon, then maybe I could ride a direwolf."

Sansa giggled a bit. "Ride a dragon? You and Rickon have impossible desires."

"If you told the Valyrians they would become dragonlords when they were still goat herders, they would be acting just as you are. Sometimes things just happen that turn into something greater. That reminds me, I had completely forgot about my promise." Arya dug her hand into a small pouch strapped to her sword belt and pulled out a small trinket. "I was nearly done before I lost my hand, Gendry helped me finish it since I couldn't with one hand trapped in a splint. Arya opened her palm and revealed a small steel direwolf. The design of it was different than the direwolf sigil of House Stark. It was more of a tamer design than the ancient sigil. The direwolf was sitting and the tail wrapped in front at the feet. At the mane was a small loop and a tiny chain ran through it turning the direwolf into a neckless. For some odd reason, it reminded Sansa of her direwolf, Lady.

"It's beautiful." Sansa said as Arya gave it to her to see up close.

"Consider it a gift for all the namedays I missed."

"That's not fair," Sansa told her, "now I need to find something to make up for your namedays I've missed."

"The only thing I could want from you is for you to survive the hell that's coming."

Sansa felt touched. Arya was starting to open up more and be more like a sister that they both failed to be long ago. "We will survive the wars to come, Arya. But even then, I will find something for you." Arya's brow arched as she thought of what she would want.

Before she could think of anything, the two of them heard a commotion from behind on the deck. They both turned around and saw two men hauling the crate that delivered the wight on deck. But why? The Citadel was given the wight's body to study, so what use did the crate have?

Sansa recognized one of the men was Podrick Payne and she was curious to what means he had in store for the crate. She walked with Arya and approached him as he and the other man set down the crate. "Podrick, what are you doing?" Sansa inquired.

"Forgive me, my lady. But we're far away enough from the city now." He began to undo the locks of the crate and removed the steel bars. As soon as the lid was free, Podrick pulled it off and out sprung a young woman, gasping deeply and her clothes soaked in sweat.

"Fucking hell, I couldn't breathe!" Her accent was the same as her skin, Dornish. She had long black curly hair and deep brown eyes. She looked well over twenty and was very beautiful.

"I'm sorry, my lady. Ser Bronn and I worked as fast as we could."

"Podrick, who is this?" Sansa demanded, confused as to what was going on as she scanned the mystery woman.

"I am Tyene Sand, daughter of Oberyn Martell and Elliara Sand."

"Tyene!" Varys took notice to what was going on and approached her with Tyrion. "It's good to have you out of the city."

"It's good to be anywhere but the city." Tyene spat as she climbed out of the crate and sat on the rim of it. "Do you know if my mother is alright?"

Tyrion remained calm as he delivered the news to her. "I'm afraid she died not too long ago in the Black Cells." He didn't sound apologetic, but Sansa knew why.

Tyrene looked devastated, but she didn't cry. "I'm going to fucking kill that Lannister Bitch."

"No, you're not," Arya argued, "Cersei's mine and mine alone. I've had her on my list far longer than you have."

"Who the hell are you?" Tyene glared at Arya like a snake as if challenging her.

"Arya Stark of Winterfell. If I recall, you should dead. I heard Cersei had you poisoned."

Tyene wiped the sweat off her brow as goosebumps began to appear all over her exposed skin. "She did, but my man saved my life and offered my mother a deal. He could only free one of us and she chose me of course. Cersei never never paid visits so switching myself with a corpse from the streets of Kings Landing was no problem. I worked in a brothel until today when this one here and my lover smuggled me out of the city." She looked over to Podrick, grateful for his assistance. "Dammit, it's fucking cold. Could I get something other than a thin dress to wear?"

Arya was kind enough to remove her own cloak and wrapped it over Tyene's shoulders. "I'll be expecting it back when we land."

"Gladly." Tyene stepped off of the crate and wobbled as she acquired her sea legs. She turned to face Podrick who looked pleased that she was smuggled out of the city successfully. "Where's my man, squire boy?"

"Ser Bronn is still in the city. He's working to smuggle out some of Cersei's wildfire."

Tyene scoffed and looked disappointed. "He'd better not take long. I want to hear him sing again."

"Lady Tyene," Sansa said, "I'm sure you must be famished after being in a crate for some time. And I assume you don't have any proper winter clothes with you."

"I'm not a lady, I'm a Sand. And the only thing I brought with me is what you see."

"Then may I extend our hospitalities and offer you a meal and something better to wear?"

Tyene grew a slick smile. "And to what name do I thank for such courtesies?"

"My name is Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell and Wardeness of the North." She couldn't help but take some pride in her position. She didn't boast about it, but she enjoyed it.

Tyene walked up to Sansa, still wearing her smile. "Then let me express my gratitude for your kindness, Lady Stark." Before Sansa could react, Tyene pressed her lips against hers and kissed her for a moment. Sansa was wide eyed and motionless as Tyene pulled her head away and winked at her before walking back to Podrick. "Come on squire, I need to take a piss. Show me where I can."

Panicking, Podrick stuttered as he nervously bowed his head to Tyene. "O-of course." She began to walk down below deck, Tyene following close behind him.

Arya turned to look as Sansa, who was just as confused as everyone else who saw what occurred. "I think she likes you."

"Shut up!" Sansa hissed.

* * *

Night came quickly and the skies became infested with thick clouds. The air grew colder and various areas of the ships sailing began to have a light layer of frost form.

Sansa and Arya stood at the railing at the front of the ship, enjoying the evening sea breeze. They had both already had their supper and wanted some time alone together, though Sansa was cautious to steer away from any form conversation inquiring about how Tyene's lips felt. But she did take to wearing the direwolf necklace Arya had given her.

"Do you ever what our lives would've been like if we never left home?" Sansa asked. She imagined that she would still be some stupid girl dreaming about gallant knights carrying her away.

"Sometimes," Arya admitted, "I mostly wonder what it would be like if father were here now. Do you think he would proud of who we've become?"

"Undoubtedly. He wanted you to be who you were and I'm glad I'm not some idiot chasing after princes anymore."

"You weren't an idiot, you were a little girl, and what little girl doesn't dream of marrying a prince?"

Sansa looked at her doubting her words. "I can name one and she's right next to me."

Arya smiled at her. "Point taken. Does that mean you're done with men?"

Sansa shook her head and rolled her eyes. To avoid going were Arya was leading her, Sansa decided to play her at her own game. "I've noticed you've been more close to Gendry ever since I saw you at the Dragonpit. When we watched Jon dueling, you were at his side the entire time."

Arya's sly mood shifted to a calm panic. "I've already told you, we became friends when I was hiding from Joffrey."

"You were friends, but now it looks like your something more."

Arya sighed, and surprisingly to Sansa, came clean without a much of a fight. "When we were captured by the Brotherhood, he wanted to stay with them, saying they were like a family. I told him I could be his family. I said near the exact same thing at Winterfell when he told me he was going to leave and start his own life. At Storm's End, he said he was thinking about what I said."

Echanting as it was, Sansa had to show concern. "Does he want to marry you?"

Arya scoffed at Sansa. "He hasn't been thinking 'that' much."

"Do you want to marry him?" Sansa couldn't contain being direct.

Arya stared out into the distance for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't want to be a Lady of the court."

"Then what do you want? To be knight? A great swordman?"

Arya only sighed. "When the war is war is won, I'll tell you what I want to be."

The planks of the deck creaked as someone approached the Stark sisters from behind. They turned around and saw Tyene Sand, dressed in one of Sansa's dresses she brought with her and still wearing Arya's cloak. "My ladies," Tyene said with a bow of her head, "or rather, the only ladies on the ship. I must say that I don't understand how you stay warm even in something as thick as this."

"Summer in the North is like Winter in the south." Arya informed.

"It must be." Tyene locked eyes with Sansa, who kept her distance. "I must apologize for my actions earlier. I became a bit too excited. But when your in a crate for hours and it feels like the hottest summer in Dorne, your head can get cooked."

"I don't appreciate your gesture," Sansa told her, "but I forgive you."

"Was that your first kiss?" Tyene asked while Arya cracked a smile, waiting for Sansa's answer.

"It was with a woman." Sansa admitted.

"You've kissed a man?" Arya asked.

"No, a man kissed me. There's a difference."

"Was it a lover of yours?" Tyene inquired.

"He wished he was."

"It couldn't've been Ramsay." Arya said. "Please don't tell me it's who I think it was." Arya pleaded. The only person who could fit that description was Littlefinger and all Sansa did in response was nod at her sister.

"Who's Ramsay?" Tyene asked.

"You shouldn't-" Arya began, but was cut off by Sansa.

"It's alright, Arya. He's nothing more than a memory." Even after what she said, Sansa was hesitant to tell Tyene. "Ramsay Bolton was the second man I was forced to marry, but Tyrion was the only one who treated me like a wife. I thought Joffrey was a monster, but compared to Ramsay he was just a spoiled child."

"You don't have to say anything else, my lady." Tyene said, no longer having a proud appearance, but a concerned one.

Surprisingly, Sansa couldn't help but smile just a bit as she realized where she was and who she was with, grateful for both. "He made so many suffer and knew how to take pleasure in it. That was the only thing he taught me and I made sure he knew I learned when I fed him alive to his own hounds."

"I underestimated you, my lady. I thought you were just a highborn girl who ruled over others, but you are more than that."

"We're Starks," Arya told her, "we have the ferocity of Direwolves and the tenacity of the North."

"Clearly." Tyene agreed as she smiled. Her faced winced all of the sudden and she brought the tips pf her fingers to her left check. She looked up to the clouds and became marveled at what she saw. Sansa and Arya looked up with her and saw snow starting to fall all around them. Tyene held her uncovered hands out and felt the snowflakes touch her skin. "It's beautiful."

"You've never seen snow before?" Arya asked.

"It tends to be too hot in Dorne for such a cold weather." Tyene corrected.

The snow falling was only a light flurry and disappeared quickly when it touched a surface. "If you're amazed at this," Arya said, "you'll be swooning when we reach the fields of snow in the North."

Tyene chuckled as Sansa took one last look out to the sea. "I'm going to retire for the night."

"I'm going to stay out hear for a bit longer." Arya said.

"I think I will as well. I like this." Tyene said as she began to sway and dance on deck.

"Then I bid you both a good night." Sansa departed from them and headed straight for her quarters.

Tucked in the warmth of her fur covers and dressed in a nightgown, she rested her body on the feather mattress and let her eyelids fall over her eyes, waiting for sleep to take her and the dawn of the next day to arrive.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter was to all of your likings. Did anyone else think when Bronn left with Podrick out of the Dragonpit in the show that it was slightly suspicious? Next xhapter will be from Jaime's POV. I wonder what will happen, ah ha, ah ha, ah ha.
> 
> Be sure to leave a comment, they make my day.


	57. Jaime IV

Jaime

The day after the truce was struck with the Targaryens, Jaime had called his own meeting with the other commanders of the Lannister Army and Harry Strickland over the map of Westeros in Maegor's Holdfast of the Red Keep. "Our men in King's Landing will march north in three days' time."

"It will take us a fortnight just to gather supplies for the train." One of the commanders informed.

"We don't have a fortnight. If the North falls, we fall. Three days. The remaining forces in the Westerlands will join the Unsullied and take the River Road east, we'll meet in Lord Harroway's town and march together to Winterfell. The Golden Company remain on Dragonstone mining the dragonglass for two weeks' time, then they join the Greyjoy ships and travel to White Harbor."

"What about the Dothraki?" One of the other commanders asked.

"They'll be far behind us unless we can't be ready in three days. Send word throughout the city offering payment to any who can assist us to prepare. We have just over a month until the dead arrive at the Wall. Aside from supplies, we'll need pitch and the Wildfire. The dead catch fire easily and it's one of the only things that can destroy them."

"We'll be sacrificing the cities defenses if we do." Another commander informed.

"If we can't defeat the dead at the Wall, then there's no chance for anything or anyone in the south. We're transporting the pitch and Wildfire, as much as we can."

"By your orders, Ser Jaime."

"Then let's get to work, we only have three days."

"Ser Jaime." Cersei spoke from behind all of them. Every bowed to her as they turned to face their queen.

"Your grace." Jaime acknowledged.

"It seems there's a bit of confusion with your plans." She informed.

"Has there been word from the Targaryens, your grace?" one of the commanders asked.

"No there hasn't. I have to agree with what was mentioned earlier. We cannot afford to sacrifice all of our city's defenses, we will be at war with the Targaryens after the dead are dealt with after all."

"your grace," Jaime said, "we need all the weapons we can get to use against the dead."

"I understand, Ser Jaime. So only transport our stores of pitch and leave the Wildfire. It's the only fire that can harm the dragons after all."

As much as Jaime didn't like it, she was right. If they used everything they had against the dead, then they would have nothing against the Targaryens. But he couldn't deny the feeling he had in his heart to get all of the Wildfire out of the city. As long as Cersei had it within her grasp, she was as dangerous as Aerys. But with the armies out of her control, she had no reason to use it on anyone. "As you command, your grace. If that is all, we must take our leave to go prepare."

"Of course, Ser Jaime. I have my own business with Qyburn I must attend to." Everyone bowed their heads as Cersei walked away and they all left the Red Keep.

* * *

Four days later in his solar, Jaime was doing his own packing for the journey. The armies had already left with the commanders, but he had to stay an extra day to oversee the rest of the pitch being loaded onto wagons and transported out of the city. He had all of his clothes, but the only cloak he ever wore was his white cloak and even that had no warmth to battle against the cold. But luckily for him, he was no longer a member of the Kingsguard and was in the market for a fur cloak. His thoughts dwindled on his time as a Kingsguard, if he ever did anything other than stab his own king in the back that was worthy of his knighthood.

In all his service all he ever did was be a glorified bodyguard in fancy armor. He stood by as his queen was raped night after night. He pushed a ten-year-old boy out of a window and crippled him. He murdered his own cousin to try and escape imprisonment. So much dishonor in his life, and now he was heading to the place where such the opposite was valued above all.

But then his thoughts drifted to Brienne. She was practically his opposite. She kept her vow to Catelyn Stark and delivered him to King's Landing. She fulfilled his vow to Catelyn Stark when he couldn't. She wouldn't stop being what a knight should be. What he wanted to be ever since he was a boy, who he wished he was right now.

He remembered when they were captured by Locke and the other Bolton men, that night when what he told her they would to do was about to happen. And he stopped it. He lost his hand, but he stopped it. He was ordered to behead an innocent woman, and he refused. He remembered when she kissed him and her words.  _'Why did I do that to a man who fights against my king?'_  Why did she? Did she predict that he would soon be fighting 'with' her king? He couldn't help but smile a little at the memory of her.

As he was nearly finished, Jaime heard his door creaking and looked up to see it was open when he had closed it when he first entered his room. "Is someone there?" He called out as his hand crept over the pommel of the dagger strapped to his belt. He slowly walked over to the door, unable to not feel cautious. As he peered through the doorway and out into the hall, he saw there was no one around.  _'Maybe I didn't close it all the way.'_  He thought to himself as he walked back into his room and closed the door properly.

When he turned around, Bronn appeared out of nowhere and placed his hand on Jaime's mouth with holding his index finger up to his own. Jaime nodded to him, confused and curious as to how Bronn slipped past him. Bronn took his hand off and Jaime's mouth and backed away, looking exhausted. "I see your gettin ready to leave."

"I thought you would have been gone by now." Jaime told him.

Bronn looked distraught and worried. "I had a few more things I had to smuggle. A woman, my gold, and of course some Wildfire. Unfortunately, Cersei's spies caught me after I saw what she had in the Alchemist Guild's storerooms while tryin to get that pig shit."

"What did you see?" Did Cersei have some new kind of weapon? Bronn did tell him about her investing the last of the gold into something that would turn the tide in the war, but he wasn't sure what.

"I saw nothing." Bronn replied.

Now Jaime was confused. "Why would you be hiding if you didn't see anything?"

"You don't understand. There were supposed thousands of jars of Wildfire in those storerooms, but there wasn't even one in there. The only place I can think of where it might've gone is where the Mad King originally had it." Jaime went from confused to concerned as he began to plead in his mind that Cersei didn't do what he thought she would. "I need your help to get out of here, or else I'm a dead man." This was the first time Bronn ever asked of help from Jaime, and considering he owed him a great deal apart from a castle and a wife, he had to pay his debt.

"You should shave your beard. You'll be less recognizable if you do. I have a blade over by my water basin." Bronn immediately walked over to the water basin and picked up the blade and applied some shaving cream to his face. He slowly moved the blade over his skin, cutting his facial hair.

"Hand over your armor when I'm done. I doubt you have any rags I can wear or something that isn't a fine fabric." Jaime didn't even reply as he began to remove his breastplate and other pieces. By the time he was stripped, Bronn was clean shaven and began to put on Jaime's Lannister red armor. "Have you got a helmet anywhere?"

"It's over by my trunk." Jaime decided to retrieve the helmet for Bronn so he could focus on dressing himself.

"Now listen to me," Bronn said sternly, "I don't give two shits about this city, or the people. I don't care about the Kingdoms, or who sits on the fucking Iron Throne. But unfortunately for me, the King and Queen I now fight for do. But I can't get anywhere near your sister, only you can. So either I sneak in with your troops and we both head safely to the North while Cersei could destroy the city at any moment, or you can do what needs to be done. Either way, when I walk out that door it will be either with or without ya." He swiftly took the helmet from Jaime and strapped it onto his head, concealing his face.

Jaime's gaze fell to the ground as he tried to process the thoughts in his head. Why did he have to be the one that could only end Cersei's life? He clenched his fists as anger stirred within him. "Leave me." He ordered and Bronn obeyed without hesitation. Finally alone again, Jaime actually considered doing what needed to be done. But the only thing keeping him from doing it was his and Cersei's child.

The next thing he knew, he was out of his room, making his way to confront Cersei about everything. He kept his hand over the pommel of his dagger, but also ready to switch it to the hilt of Widow's Wail. As he walked throughout the hallways, he turned a corner and suddenly walked into Qyburn who was carrying a few vials of substances. As the old man fell to the ground, he dropped two of his vials, but only one of them broke and the liquid spilled. "Qyburn," Jaime said as the scent of the liquid filled the air.

"Apologies Ser Jaime, I didn't-"

Jaime grabbed hold of Qyburn's robe and pulled him off the ground and pinned him against a wall. "You're the only one Cersei seems to trust anymore. So tell me, where is the Wildifre?"

"Ser Jaime, you need to understand that-"

"Answer the fucking question!" Jaime growled before he caught the scent of what spilled. He sniffed the air, recognizing the smell, but unable to remember what name belonged to it. "What is that?"

"I'm sorry, Ser Jaime. But the Queen threatened to burn alive if I didn't…" He looked afraid to finish his sentence.

"If you didn't, what?"

Qyburn gulped once before revealing to Jaime. "Your child was going to a dwarf."

It was when he said that did Jaime remember what the smell was. Moon Tea. He remembered that Cersei would often have it many times after they had fornicated when Robert had gone away with some whore and the smell was very potent. His grip around Qyburn loosened as he stepped back and a weight fell onto his heart. She killed their child, because it was going to be a dwarf? He furiously left Qyburn and quickened his pace to Cersei's solar.

When he crossed over the painted map of Westeros in Maegor's Holdfast, he spotted Cersei longing in a chair facing out towards a balcony to her room. She had a glass of wine in her hand and the Mountain stood vigil as he always has. His footsteps were loud as she turned her head hearing the noise they made.

When he got closer, the Mountain placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and stepped in Jaime's path. He couldn't help but stop, seeing as he would not risk challenging whatever reasoning Gregor Clegane had, if there was any to begin with.

Jaime remained silent as he gazed angrily at Cersei and she only wore an expression as if she did nothing wrong. "Do you need something, Ser Jaime?" She casually asked.

"Why?" Was all he said.

"Why, what?"

"Why did you drink the tea?" Jaime felt shivers run down his body as Cersei just scoffed at him.

"The little monster would have done to me what Tyrion did to our mother. I couldn't let such a thing happen."

"Monster? How dare you. That 'monster' was our child, our future, and now it's gone!"

"If all you wanted to do was complain, then leave me be." Cersei took a large sip of her wine as Jaime took two steps back out of shock. With their child gone, so was she.

"Where's the Wildfire?"

Cersei finished her wine and set it down on a small table next to her chair. "I merely restored it to where it belongs. It wasn't doing much gathering dust in the vaults of the Alchemist Guild, but it will be much more effective beneath the city."

With those words, Jaime finally realized that his sister really was just another Mad King. "You were going to granted a pardon, we were going to be given our home, we could have lived out our lives together. Why would you throw that away!?"

"I will not let some dragonspawn take what is rightfully mine. I will not bow to some silvered haired bitch. If she wants her precious city, she can have it, and the people too. At least their ashes. When she returns to this city, her, the bastard, her dragons and those demons inside her can burn with it all."

The Mad King's words sounded in Jaime's mind.  _'Burn them, BURN THEM ALL!'_  Without even thinking, Jaime began to draw Widow's Wail from its scabbard, but the Mountain drew his sword first and growled.

Cersei didn't even turn her head to know what Jaime was about to do. "Are you going to stab your Queen in the back like you did your King?" She asked, mockingly.

Jaime's grip on Widow's Wail tighten. "I'm already a Kingslayer, why not be a Queenslayer?"

Without hesitating, the Mountain stepped forward and swung his free hand and knocked Jaime far across the floor onto his back. Jaime scrambled to his feet as the Mountain walked closer to him, but this time raising his sword.

Jaime quickly ducked under a powerful slash and thrusted Widow's Wail as hard as he could into the black breastplate. The Valyrian steel stabbed through the armor like a knife in bread and planted the blade deep into the Mountain's chest. Gregor looked down at where the blade entered his body before looking at Jaime, unfazed and unhurt. Jaime quickly pulled out the sword and was struck back again, this time he was knocked over the railing surrounding the map of Westeros.

As he slowly got to his feet, feeling pain all over his chest, Jaime realized that as long as the Mountain was as he was, there was no way he could get past him to Cersei, so he turned and ran as fast as he could. Ignoring all of Cersei's shouts for the other guards, he just ran and put as much distance between Gregor Clegane who was far to large to catch up to him.

With Widow's wail sheathed, Jaime didn't even make it out of the Red Keep before bells began to clamor, signaling an assassin in the castle. Jaime switched from running to a fast walk as he pasted many guards who had no idea he was the one who they were supposed to be looking for.

By the time he had passed through the large gates leading into the city, a squad of fifty Gold Cloaks quickly passed by him into the Red Keep. Once he was in the streets, he took back to running. He had to get to the gates before they were closed off and he would be trapped in the city. He stuck to the alley ways and passed by many shivering beggars and dead bodies as he navigated through the maze of houses. As he got lost at wound up at a dead end, he could barely hear shouting throughout the streets. "Ser Jaime Lannister has attempted to murder the Queen! Arrest him on sight!" The Gold Cloaks knew who to look for now, and he already stood out enough with a golden hilted sword and expensive leathers.

With all the Alleys leading to dead ends, Jaime was forced to take to the streets, but he had to use cuation and only move when there was absolutely no one around. What should've taken minutes of hiding between crossing the street sometimes became as long as an hour now that the Golden Company was looking for him too. The only way he could pick up his pace would be to wait for the night and the cover of darkness, but the rate the alleys were being swept, he didn't have such a luxury.

As Jaime passed through the streets and into the alleyways, he could hear the rustling of armor and footsteps sounding like the beating of drums approaching from around a corner. Panicking, he turned around to escape the way he came, but three Gold Cloaks had just turned into the alley he was in. "There he is!" One of the shouted as he began to run with his companions after Jaime. He wouldn't be able to fight three of them in such close quarters, so his only chance was to turn and hopefully run through whoever was approaching from the corner. He turned and ran as fast as he could, preparing to bash through whoever got in his way.

From around the corner, six sellswords from the Golden Company appeared and stopped in their tracks when they saw Jaime. Unfortunately, his attempt to get passed them failed as he was stopped and pulled to the ground on his back. "Well well, looks like we caught ourselves a golden lion for the Golden Company." One of the sellswords said as the men of the City Watch caught up to them.

"Well done," one of the Watchmen said, "good thing he ran into you." The three Gold Cloaks looked exhausted, even after such a short chase.

"Indeed," the sellsword said as two others approached the Watchmen and patted them on their backs, "very good thing." Without warning, the sellswords drew daggers at their sides and killed the Gold Cloaks swiftly and quietly. As the bodies fell to the ground and the blood stained the dirt, the sellswords checked to see if anyone else was approaching. "One of you go stand guard at the alley entrance. As for the other, go find Captain Strickland." The two sellswords that killed the Watchmen nodded and left the way Jaime came. "Let's get these bodies somewhere no one will find them for a while." The other members of the Golden Company picked up the dead bodies and dragged them passed Jaime and the assumed leader of the group who stood over him, offering his hand up. "You have nothing to fear, Lannister. Just don't do anything stupid like trying to kill the Mad Queen when her guard is right next to her." The leader said, mocking Jaime's attempt. Jaime scowled at him before helping himself up, remaining cautious of the Golden Company. "We should probably hide with the bodies if we want to be unseen." The leader said as he stepped aside out of the way for Jaime to proceed into the alley, all the while keeping his hand on the pommel of a scimitar with a hilt themed after a griffon.

As evening fell over the city and the lamps and torches were lit in the streets, Jaime became surprised that not one of the men guarding him would speak to him. Even with all the time he had waiting, Jaime still couldn't understand why the Golden Company didn't arrest him when the saw him and why they killed the Gold Cloaks.

All of his wondering came to an end when four other members of the Golden Company appeared with Harry Strickland leading them. "Ser Jaime." He said, in his full armor of steel colored to be gold and wearing a red leather satchel at his side.

"Captain Strickland." Jaime replied.

Harry only smiled at Jaime. "I thought I said to call me Harry. Only my men and employers call me Captain."

"Well then, Harry, will I have the honor of being arrested personally by you, or am I to fight until one of us is dead?"

Harry chuckled at his assumption. "Neither, in fact quite the opposite." He nodded to one of his men who carried armor of the Golden Company and offered it over to Jaime. "We're going to get you out of the city so you can fight the dead."

"You're sneaking me into your army when they march north?" Jaime asked.

Harry shook his head. "I have been given orders to have the Golden Company remain in King's Landing."

"You saw the creature in the Dragonpit, you saw what it did when the Hound sliced it in two."

"Yes I saw!" Harry exclaimed. "If I could, I'd take my entire company and sail them back to Essos. But Cersei has hardly any ships and nearly all the ones for hire in Essos are already hired, so we're stuck here, bound by contract to obey our contractor."

"But your helping me escape, that's not obeying your contract is it?"

"Like you said, I saw that creature in the Dragonpit. If we can't go home and we can't go north, we'll do what we can to help. You are seasoned commander and carry a rare weapon that can harm the dead. The world can't afford to lose you just yet. Put on the armor."

Jaime just stared at Harry, going through his options if he had any before accepting the armor worked on putting it on. "I suppose the Ironborn shouldn't expect any dragonglass then?" Jaime said as he strapped his spaulders to his gorget.

"No, they should. In fact my men have been mining it for weeks now. Ever since my most trusted spy I have at Winterfell sent a report saying the Targaryen King was possessed by a demon and had blue eyes, the same as that creature, and was brought back from the dead by a Priestess of Asshai in an inferno of red dragonfire."

"You've been planning on supporting them even before seeing it for yourself?" Jaime asked, strapping on the last of his armor.

"I've been through enough shit to know it's better to be safe than sorry, and I've seen enough fucked up shit in the world to believe anything is possible." Harry snapped his fingers at one of his other men and he tossed his captain a blue hooded cloak. "My men will escort you through the gates and then ten miles out of the city. I can't get you a horse, so you'll have to go on foot until you can steal one. Stay clear of your armies until you get to Winterfell. They won't be able to touch you there." He handed the cloak to Jaime who instantly flung it over his shoulders and raised the hood over his head.

"Thank you, Harry."

"Keep your mouth shut, and stay close to my men. If you're discovered, they won't fight for you." Harry removed his satchel from his shoulder and held it out to Jaime. "While my men were mining in the dragonglass caves, they found something. If you don't want prying eyes to see it, don't open this until you reach Winterfell." Jaime took the satchel and felt a great weight within in. He slung it over his shoulder and kept it over the hilt of Widow's Wail to conceal it. "Just one more thing before you leave." Harry undid his sword belt and removed his half of Blackfyre and gave it to Jaime. "Offer this to the Targaryen King and Queen. You know what it means, but they don't. Regardless of their answer, I won't mind if you it in the war to come." Without saying another word, Harry redid his sword belt and left with two of his men while the rest would be Jaime's escort.

Finally able to use the streets, Jaime and the Golden company were led by the sellsword with the griffon hilted sword to the gates of King's Landing. He broke off from the group and spoke to two of Gold Cloaks for a minute before they smiled at each other and ordered the gates to be opened. This amazed Jaime since the leader didn't give them any gold or money.

Finally out of the city, the gates closed behind them and a rush of relief fell over Jaime. When they were far enough from the gate, Jaime walked up to the leader. "How'd you convince him to open the gate?"

"I promised to give him and two others extra rations of food if he did." The leader stopped and turned to face Jaime. "You'd better win that war in the North and hurry back, otherwise there'll be nothing but corpses of starvation."

"If Cersei doesn't burn them all before that happens." Jaime corrected. The leader just sighed at him and they continued onward.

They light of the sun was completely gone from the sky when they reached the ten-mile mark outside of the city and the Golden Company halted their escort. "Well Lannister," the leader said, "I hope you win. Cause if you don't we're fucked."

"Even if we do, you're fucked. If you stay in that city, you'll die along with everyone else the way Aerys the Mad King wanted. If you can't return to Essos, you should flee to somewhere else."

"I appreciate your concern, Ser Jaime. But I have my orders, and they are to stay in the city." The leader offered his hand out to Jon out of respect rather than gratitude.

Jaime accepted it, returning the respect given to him. "Thank you…"

"Jon." The leader informed.

"Thank you, Jon, for bringing me this far."

"Maybe if you're lucky, you can meet the Dothraki on the Kingsroad before they pass you." Jon let go of of Jaime's hand and began walking back to King's Landing with his men.

Jaime sighed as he turned around and looked out to the trail before him and saw it disappear, far away in the distance. Before he continued onwards, he raised his golden hand and just stared at it. His thoughts dwelled on leaving it. It didn't do much for him and if there were any spies on the road that saw it, he would eventually be captured. 'To hell with it.' He thought as he decided to just keep the damn thing. Before he lowered his hand, he noticed a snowflake land on the gold and melt. Jaime looked up at the covered sky and could see the patterns in the air indicating snowfall. "Winter is here." Jaime said to himself before starting a quick pace down the road.

* * *

Before morning came, Jaime finally made it to a tavern on the road. He needed food since he had none and couldn't afford to stay the night, but even as the first snows of winter were here, he didn't find it bothersome to have to camp. As he got closer, he could see that there were no horses tied to any post so he would have a longer ways to go before he could steal one.

Making his way inside, the warmth of the tavern defeated the cold of the outside and Jaime's feet had been sore from walking throughout the night. He sat down in a shady corner as a young girl approached him, looking tired and desiring sleep. "May I get you anything?"

"That depends," Jaime told her, "I don't have gold," he drew the dagger at his side and laid it on the table, "but I can give you this. Its castle forged steel and can sell for a good price. Or you can keep it to keep yourself safe from drunks that always try to touch you."

The girl picked up the dagger and inspected it closely before sighing and rolling her eyes. "Wait here." She took the knife and disaapeared behind a door at the back. Moments later, she returned with a plate of bread and honey. "This is all you get since we have hardly anything else to offer, but you'll need real money for that."

"Of course, thank you." Jaime said as he took the plate from her and slowly ate his food, savoring the taste. He only ate half of his bread, seeing how he wouldn't get anything else for some time while on the road.

"There's a room upstairs, you're welcome to stay." The girl then walked off and disappeared through a door.

Not wanting to deny good hospitality, Jaime took what was left of his food and brought it with him up to his room. He wasn't given the best of beds, but it would be better and warmer than camping. When he fell onto the bed in full armor and two swords at his side and a satchel, it didn't take long for him to fall asleep. But as rejuvenating as it was, the feeling disappeared as he dreamed he was the Mad King's guard once again.  _'Burn them, BURN THEM ALL!'_

Jaime shot awake as the words of Aerys echoed in his memories. He heard more noise than he did when he went to sleep, meaning it was probably in the middle of the day and there were more travelers in the building. But that might mean there were Gold Cloaks looking for him. Luckily for sleeping with having to undress, Jaime got up from his bed and grabbed onto the rest of his bread. He peaked out of the door andchecked for any sign of danger. No one was on the second floor, so Jaime left his room and flipped his hood bacvk on before going downstairs.

When he looked around, he didn't see any Gold Cloaks or any type of soldier for that matter. At least, except for one Lannister soldier who was sitting wear he did the night before. Jaime cautious as first, but then he recognized who it was when he took his helmet off. He'd never been happier to see Bronn in his life.

Bronn was startled when Jaime took a seat next tohim, so much that he nearly drew his knife on him. "Seven hells, I thought you dead." Bronn told him with a mouth full of bread.

"I probably would be if I didn't have help from a temporary friend."

"That would explain the fancy armor. Do you have horse?"

"No, I was hoping to steal one from here, but there was nothing."

"Then it looks like we're on foot. But from what I've overheard, the Dothraki from Highgarden will be here come nightfall. We'll just hitch a ride with them."

"And how do you plan on doing that, exactly? I had no idea you spoke Dothraki." Jaime said doubtfully.

"I don't, but I don't need to. I just have to show them the armor I'm wearing, point in the direction their going and hope they understand."

"That's your plan? To acquire transport on the basis that you hope it will work?"

"You got any better ideas? What's in the satchel? Maybe something we could trade?"

"I don't know, I was told not to open it until I get to Winterfell. Whatever it is, it was found in the dragonglass mines on Dragonstone."

Bronn looked around the tavern and scooted his chair closer to Jaime's right side. "Open it up and let's have a look. There's no one around who could cause trouble."

Jaime couldn't deny that he was curious, and it got the better of him. He pulled the satchel to his lap and undid the strap that kept it closed. When he opened it and looked inside, he became confused. He reached inside and pulled out the contents halfway as to still keep it concealed.

"What is that?" Bronn asked.

"It looks like a rock of some kind." Jaime held a large red stone that had a very symmetrical scaled texture all along the surface. Near the bottom of it, the red turned to orange and the entire rock was shaped like an egg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like apples? How'd you like them apples?


	58. Rickon VI

Rickon

The fields of Winterfell were once empty and barren, occupied only with snow and the dragons when they nested. But now, ever so slowly, the armies from the south began to gather around the castle. The Knights of the Vale, the Riverlands, some of the Ironborn, the Wildlings, the Night's Watch, and even the Firey Hand, men from Essos who served the Lord of Light, here to fight for him in the great war. However, when the size of occupants grew too great even before the meeting at Kings Landing, it became clear that tents where in short supply and not enough were available so with the man power of the two thousand Builders of the Watch and few hundred men who could work lumber, large log huts were quickly made with the help of the Wildlings who stayed in Winterfell along with several full-grown giants. At one point, there was even the proposition to continue building huts and expanding the small collection that already existed. Such an idea was considered wise since there would be near two hundred thousand. From a far distance, Winterfell could be mistaken for a city rather than just a castle with all that were camped around it and all of the housing that was being built. If fate had been more kind and more time was available, there wouldn't be any need for tents at all.

However even with all of the construction and maintenance going on, the Lord of Winterfell was confined to daily drills with Anguy, learning to improve his marksmanship with the other trainees. Even though Rickon was the best among them, Anguy pointed out flaws in everything he did.

Anguy was having Rickon demonstrate for the group his accuracy and gave him three arrows for three targets all aligned next to each other against a wall. With ease, Rickon was able to hit the bullseye of each one, but when Anguy retrieved the arrows, he looked unimpressed.

"You missed." He announced to Rickon but loud enough for everyone to hear.

"No I didn't," Rickon objected, "I hit all three of them dead center."

"You did, but took your sweet time doing it. It's going to be a lot harder hitting a moving target."

"I've hunted before." Rickon countered. "I've hit it rabbits from more than a hundred yards away."

"Were these rabbits charging at you, with weapons and armor?" Anguy raised his brow, waiting for Rickon to answer.

"No."

"Will it matter though?" Someone from behind asked. Rickon turned his head and all attention was on a teenaged boy from WinterTown leaning on his longbow. "There'll be so many of them, will it matter if we aim or not?"

"Good point," Anguy said, "you could just point your arrows up to the sky and hope that they'll hit something, or you learn how to fire a bow right, and land every arrow on its mark." Anguy did make a point. There was a limited amount of dragonglass arrows they had, even with the shipments they would have coming soon, there would be enough to stick one arrow into each dead soldier. But that was every arrow hit and they didn't meet the army of the living.

Anguy handed the arrows back to Rickon, wanting him to try again. Rickon stuck two of the arrows into the ground and knocked the third. He eyed his target carefully, taking deep breathes to clear his mind. He drew the bowstring back and lifted the bow up, steadying it and lining the arrow to the path he wanted. He released the arrow and it sailed through the air, landing close to the center of the target. His time firing the arrow was quicker than his first attempt, but at the cost of his accuracy. "Your position is good," Anguy said, "but never hold." Rickon returned to resting the bow. "Your sister did the same thing. If you hold, your muscles will tense up."

"Then how do I aim?" Rickon asked, curious for the secret.

"Your eyes know where you want the arrow to go." He patted Rickon on the shoulder and pulled the two arrows out of the ground. "That goes for all of you. Aim all you want, but unless you can guarantee a kill before you draw your arrow back, don't even bother using a bow." This caused some disgruntlement among the young group. "And to make sure you get a feeling of that, I have something special planned for you all. Follow me." Anguy began walking away from the practice yard, followed by everyone in his lesson. They all entered the courtyard of Winterfell and saw two horses that were strapped to wagons. Anguy stood next to one of them and patted the wooden floor. "Six of you climb in here and the other six get into the other one. But give us your bows first."

Rickon handed his bow to Anguy as the occupants of the other wagon handed theirs over to their driver. He climbed in after a young Wildling girl who climbed in first and tried to sit next to her, but Snow's scabbard got in the way.

"Give it here," Anguy said, his right arm full of bows, "I won't lose it, don't worry my young lord." He held out his hand, waiting for Rickon to hand over his Valyrian Sword. He politely obliged and undid his sword belt then tied it around the scabbard of the sword before handing over to Anguy. He kept it under his arm as he set the bows down in the wagon at the feet of the riders before he climbed on himself and took the reins, spurring his horse forward and driving the wagon out of the castle.

The two wagons full of archers in training rode on the snow-covered roads away from Winterfell, past all of the tents and huts and many of the occupants. For Rickon, he was fascinated when he saw how many different types of people were gathered. The northerners were obvious to tell apart from any of the others because of theirs cloaks and their beards. The Essosi of the night's watch all had their dark skin, but it was beginning to pale from the constant lack of the sun. The Ironborn all had their sea salt stained clothes and filthy features. The only way to tell apart the Riverlanders from the Knights of the Vale was the plate armor the Knights of the Vale wore at all times.

The wagon came to a halt as a giant with a great long black beard and hair just as long walked across the road carrying several large logs in each arm that were practically tree trucks. He was followed by four Wildlings and several of the Night's Watch builders. As the wagon continued on, everyone snuck a look at the soldiers of the Fiery Hand and could see some of them igniting their swords and what must have been praying to the Lord of Light in High Valyrian. Ever since they arrived, Daenerys had ordered to have a close eye kept on them and forbade any form of living sacrifice to the Lord of Light.

All of that became far away into the distance as the wagon's continued onwards. "Where are we going?" an elder boy finally asked. They were at least five miles away from Winterfell right now and out of range of anyone they might harm practicing archery.

"Ten more miles out." Rickon could notice Anguy smirking a little a little, like he knew something they didn't, which wasn't at all wrong. "Just wait a little longer."

A little longer was for longer than Anguy implied. Nearly an hour had passed and still they were at least a mile away from whatever their destination was. Everyone kept quiet the entire ride and it only made the time stretch out longer. Anguy attempted to start a song with all of his students, but the songs he sung were ones they never heard before.

Finally, the wagons came to a halt and Winterfell was hidden away by a hill and some trees. "Right, everybody out!" Anguy shouted.

"What are we doing here?" The elder boy asked as everyone emptied out of their wagons with their bows.

"In less than a week, Winterfell will be hosting an army of over two hundred thousand. Food is scarce as it is, so if you want to eat you'll have to get it yourself. Whatever you can hunt will be yours." Such a plan wasn't a bad idea. It would help give motivation for everyone to improve and hone their skills. Anguy walked over to the other wagon and retrieved a sack with a bundle of arrows from the back. He took them all out of the sack and gave one arrow to each person. "Here you are," he said as everyone looked distraught at the amount of their ammunition, "you gave until dark to bring something back."

"But you gave us one arrow." Rickon stated. "What if we lose it?"

"Then you'll go hungry tonight. You each have one arrow. That's one shot, one chance, one target. If you lose your arrow, why did you even bother to fire it? If you find it, good. But in war, when the enemy is charging straight at you, ready to end your life without a single care of who or what you are, do you think they'll give you have second chance to hit them? You either do or don't." Anguy retrieved his own bow from the back of the wagon he didn't drive as did the other man who came with them. "Stay in groups of three. If you get lost, stay where you are and we'll find you." Anguy grabbed his own quiver full of arrows and departed from the group with the other man, taking Snow with him.

"Where are you going?" A young girl shouted.

"To get our supper!" Anguy shouted back, not even turning to face them.

Everyone just stared at each other, unsure of how to proceed. "Has anyone else ever hunted before?" Rickon asked.

"I have." One of the older boys said. He looked to be just under sixteen years of age.

"Me too, but only a few times." Another boy said, much younger than the first. He was one of four wildlings that came with everyone.

"Anyone else?" Rickon asked again. Everyone just remained quiet. Rickon sighed, he got the feeling that whoever went without someone with experience would come back empty handed. "Alright, then whoever has hunted will lead whoever goes with them." He pointed at one of the older girls of the North who was with them. "You're one of the better archers, so you'll lead the group without a hunter. The snow is deep enough for animals to leave tracks, so just follow them if they're fresh. If you can't find anything, look up in the trees for squirrel dens or the ground for rabbit holes. They usually hide in bushes or even hollow tree stumps."

With no one else having any better ideas or knowledge, everyone went along with the plan and broke up into four groups of three. Rickon was with the Wildling girl he sat next to and a fourteen-year-old stable boy from Wintertown.

"So what names do I have to call you?" Rickon asked as they trudged through the snow and into the trees.

"I'm Ralf, milord." The stable boy said.

"Johnna." The Wildling girl's voice was barely over a whisper.

"Rickon Stark." He didn't need to tell them, but he felt like it anyway.

* * *

As they pressed onward through the trees, things became easier as the level of the snow wasn't as thick as it was in the open. The trees were spaced enough apart that they didn't have to be maneuvered around. The difficulties Rickon, Johnna, and Ralf had were finding any for of tracks. The light of the sun helped illuminate their way, but the shadows of the trees would be mistaken for prints in the snow.

To help make the search easier, Rickon had them all spread out ten paces apart from each other and continue in the same direction. It was long until someone found something this way. "Over here!" Johnna called. Rickon and Ralf rushed over to her and saw that she was standing next to some animal tracks in the snow. "I think they might be fox tracks." She said as Rickon inspected them.

"They are," Rickon confirmed, "and they're fresh." He looked at the direction the tracks led. "We can catch up if we're quick and quite." Rickon led the way, following the prints in the snow in hopes to find their next meal.

It was only a few minutes later that Rickon spotted a small orange figure in the distance. "There!" He loudly whispered as he crouched down. Johnna and Ralf followed him and spotted the fox far away.

"Can you get it from here?" Johnna asked.

"Me? Maybe." Rickon told them. "Let's get a little closer first." They all slowly moved through the snow, the only sound being made was that of their breaths. Using a fallen tree as cover, they all huddled together and observed the fox from less than forty yards away. It was currently sniffing at a bush, looking for something to eat.

"It looks pretty big," Ralf whispered, "can you hit it, milord?"

"From this distance, with ease. But I'm not going to." Rickon turned his head to Johnna and for the first time got a better look at her face. He thought she looked very pretty for a Wildling. "You found the tracks, you have to make the shot."

"Are you sure?" She asked quietly.

"I believe in you." Rickon told her. He had seen her shoot before and she wasn't the best, but he had to start having confidence in those around him if they were going to have a chance in the war with the dead. Johnna sighed as she brought her bow and arrow over the fallen tree and knocked her arrow. She breathed deeply and exhaled before drawing the bowstring.

After about five seconds, she released the arrow and they all watched it sail over the snow and past the trees. The arrow found it's mark in the fox's neck and the creature fell into the snow, not making another move.

Rickon smiled at Johnna who looked happy with her kill. "You see? You can do it." Rickon told her as the three of them climbed over the tree and hastily approached the fox.

The creature's blood had already drained from its body and was as limp as a dead fish. Johnna pulled her arrow out of the fox's neck and wiped the blood onto her heavy fur clothes, not caring for any stains.

"Milord!" Ralf called out. Rickon and Johnna looked over to him as saw he was a distance from them. "There are more tracks over here!"

Rickon and Johnna both joined him and gaped at what they saw. There was practically a trail in the snow made from dozens of animals sticking close together. Rickon knelt down and inspected the details of the tracks, most of them too undistinctive enough to be identified. But then he spotted one that was intact enough to know what came by. "Wolves," Rickon informed, "and a lot of them."

Ralf backed away, frightened and scared. "Are they close?"

"No, these tracks look a few days old. We should be alright." Ralf sighed in relief and returned to Rickon's side. Rickon noticed a different print in the tracks. "This, however, is fresh." He lightly brushed some snow out of the track and was able to see what it was. "There was a stag here, not too long ago." Rickon turned to face his companions. "What say you? Do you want to try and bring home a meal that would feed us for every meal for an entire week?"

"That sounds excellent." Ralf said, excited.

"I already have my kill, so lead the way." Johnna said.

Rickon looked back at the tracks, searching for where they led. From what he could see, the stag was following the trail the wolves made, almost as if the hide it's tracks. "Follow me."

The three of them set out to find their next kill, hoping that such a prize would become theirs. But they learned that looking for such a bounty would be harder than it was. The sun was reaching the horizon and soon they would be too far out to return before dark and a cold wind was picking up. Ralf was already shivering and Rickon was starting to feel the cold sink through his thick clothes, but Johnna looked perfectly fine.

"How are you not freezing?" Rickon asked.

"Winter south of the Wall is how it normally feels north of the Wall. My sister and I have been through worse."

"You have a sister?"

"Her name's Willa. She's younger than me by four years. Too young to fight with everyone."

"I've noticed you at Winterfell very often. Why didn't you go with any of the hosts from the Dreadfort?"

"My sister and I have to stay were Tormund tells us to be."

Rickon remembered the ginger Wildling who lost an ear to Jon when he came back from beyond the Wall. "Is Tormund your father?"

"No, our father died a long time ago. Tormund's been protecting us ever since my died at Hardhome." Rickon had heard of Hardhome from Jon. He told him that it was massacre and the greatest victory for the dead. But that was before they killed one of the dragons.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry like that."

She stopped walking and turned to face Rickon. "Then maybe you shouldn't talk at all and focus on finding the stag. You wouldn't understand." She was obviously angry at him, but before she could walk away, Rickon grabbed her by the shoulder and stopped her.

"My father and mother are dead too. My father was betrayed and beheaded. My mother was betrayed and killed after watching my brother and sister by law murdered. I don't even remember what they look like anymore. So don't you dare say I wouldn't understand." Johnna's expression went from irritated to sorry as Rickon walked past her with Ralf.

After a few more minutes of walking, the three hunters came to a stop. The stag tracks broke away from the wolf tracks and far out past the trees, the lone stag could be seen next to a tree, feeding off of something near the roots. The stag was within Rickon's range of skill, but it was too obscured to hit.

"This one is mine," Rickon told Ralf and Johnna, "one of you stand behind that tree and keep an eye on the stag." Rickon pointed to a thick tree that would provide cover from a perfect vantage point.

"I'll stand watch for you." Johnna said as she moved to the designated spot, leaving her fox with Ralf.

"What should I do, milord?" Ralf asked.

"Stay here and wait for me to call you two over." Rickon left Ralf to himself and made his way over to a better position. He was far away enough that he wouldn't attract any attention from the stag as he trudged through the snow.

Once he reached a spot where the full stag was in view, he could see that the size of the beast was greater than what he thought. If he managed to kill it, Johnna might have to abandon the fox to help them carry the stag back. He knocked his arrow and kept his bow low, taking deep breathes. But as he started to pull back on the string, the stag lifted its head up, scanning the area. Rickon ducked behind a tree, out of sight of the stag, but in the sight of Johnna. He kept herself well hidden from the creature but visible to Rickon. He looked over to her for any indication if he could take the shot. She kept her gaze on the stag before turning it to Rickon and nodding. He revealed his body past from behind the tree and began to draw the string back again.

Once again, the stag lifted its head up, but not in Rickon's direction. It was looking at further beyond the trees and started moving as if trying to get a better look at something. Rickon was hesitant, but continued to draw the arrow back. Before he could fire it, the stag seemed to panic and started to dart away. Rickon relieved the stress of the bow and brought the bowstring back to rest. "Dammit!" he whispered to himself. The stag was still in range, but moving too fast for Rickon to get a good aim.

_'Your eyes know where you want the arrow to go.'_

Rickon exhaled and kept calm, keeping his eye on the stag. He quickly pulled the bowstring back and released the arrow, hoping it wouldn't be lost in the snow or break. To his pride, the arrow sank deep into the rear thigh of the beast and brought it to the ground. It called out in pain as it tried to get up, but the injury robbed it of any speed it would have. "Johnna!" Rickon called out. "Finish it!" Johnna came out of her cover and rushed forward, knocking her arrow and drawing it to her cheek. After a moment, she released the arrow and it sank deep into the stag's body. A few seconds passed as it fell into the snow, no longer making any movement or sound. "Yes!" Rickon exclaimed. "Well done!" He approached the body of the fallen beast with Johnna to see the full magnitude of their kill up close.

The stag's size was far too large for all of them to carry together, but not large enough that it couldn't be dragged. "Great shot," Johnna complimented, "I think this will be the best prize out of everything." Rickon turned his gaze from the stag to Johnna and saw her smiling at him. He smiled back at her, but it died when he noticed something moving behind Johnna. He leaned his body and in the distance, he could see something large and brown quickly approaching them. Rickon felt shivers run down his body when the shape he saw turned into that of a large bear. "Run," Rickon said as he tried to move his legs but couldn't. Johnna looked behind her and saw the bear getting closer. "Run!" Rickon finally was able to move, but grabbed onto Johnna's hand before pulling her with him as the quickly ran from the fallen stag.

They both looked back and saw that the bear claimed the stag for its own and began tearing through its flesh. They both began to feel safer as they grew further from the beast. Rickon turned his head to see if Ralf was alright, but froze when he saw him scared and had his arrow knocked and drawn. "Ralf, no!" Rickon's cry was too late as Ralf released his arrow and let it fly at the bear. To all of their dread, the arrow missed the bear's body and stuck into the bear's foreleg. It let out a loud growl and looked over at Rickon and Johnna, thinking they were the ones who injured it. It ignored the stag and began to pursue them, but the injury slowed it down some. "Run back to Ralf and get back to the wagons." Rickon ordered as he separated himself from Johnna and tried to get the bears attention. "Over here! Come on!" The bear took noticed and changed its course to only Rickon. Glad that the beast's attention was on him alone now, Rickon shuttered when he forgot that a full-grown bear was chasing him. He turned around and ran as fast as he could through the snow, drooping his bow behind him. He knew the bear was still pursuing him because of the constant growls and the sound of the bear's paws moving through the snow.

After a few minutes of running, Rickon felt all of energy gone yet he wouldn't allow himself to stop running. He cried out as the exhaustion pained all over him and his body turned from cold to steaming with sweat. The bear never gave up it's pursuit, but some distance was put between it and Rickon. Unfortunately, Rickon lost his footing and tiredly collapsed into the ground. The snow stung as it clung to his face and quickly melted away. He turned his head and saw the bear draw closer to him. Rickon noticed that Ralf's arrow had snapped an only a small bit of the shaft protruded from the bear's foreleg.

With no energy left no move, all Rickon could do was wait and pray to the Old Gods to let him live to see tomorrow. He thought about closing his eyes, but he was too afraid to, he only held his breath as the bear was nearly upon him.

All of a sudden, a white flash collided with the bear and tackled it to the ground. Gasping for air, Rickon did his best to move and see what it was. A large white furred creature wrestled with the bear and constantly sank its teeth into the bear's flesh. Rickon saw the ruby red eyes stare death at the bear before it swung it's claws a slashed the white furred beast across the neck. It whimpered as it was forced off of the bear and got back up on its legs, baring its teeth and guarding Rickon. "Ghost," Rickon breathed out, relieved and overjoyed to see the direwolf again.

Ghost snarled as the bear growled, but it's attention turned from Ghost to all around as dozens of wolves began to appear from the trees. Rickon became wide eyed when a grey direwolf larger than a horse appeared and snarled with the rest of its pack. The bear looked angry, but absolutely hopeless to escape.

As if commanding soldiers, the larger direwolf barked and many of the wolves set themselves upon the bear, constantly being swatted at but also tearing through the bears flesh. The bear roared out as it was brought to heel and the wolves continued to attack it. After a moment of carnage, the bear ceased moving and the wolves calmed down.

Rickon sighed out after witnessing such a thing, but held his breath when the large direwolf slowly trotted right up to him and stared deeply into his eyes. It took a moment for Rickon to realize that he knew this direwolf from long ago. "Nymeria?" Nymeria laid down in front of Rickon, as if waiting for him to do something. All of a sudden, her eyes flashed white and she motioned with her head at her back. "Bran? Is that you?" Nymeria bowed her head slowly as if to confirm his question. She motioned her head again to her back. "Do you want me to get on you?" Nymeria bowed her head once again, clearly under the control of Bran. He reached his hand onto Nymeria's soft fur, grabbing ahold and pulling himself onto Nymeria's back. With both hands gripping her fur, Rickon rested his body as she stood up and began to quickly trot back the way he came, Ghost and the pack following.

By the time the sun was down, the wolf pack was nearing the edge of the woods. Nymeria stopped and lowered her body. Being while rested, from running, Rickon slid off of Nymeria's back and stood up with her. Her eyes flashed white again, Bran's control no longer present, and she turned back and led her wolf pack into the forest where they came, but to Rickon's joy, Ghost remained. His white fur was stained with blood from his wound the bear inflicted.

Rickon smiled as he walked up to Ghost and knelt down in front of him, delivering a soft hug around him. "I missed you, boy." Rickon let go of Ghost and stood up. Ghost accompanied him as they walked back to the wagons. When they left the cover of the trees and came into sight of everyone else, Anguy saw them both and looked relieved as did Ralf and Johnna. The only thing that made them keep their distance was the large white direwolf covered in blood. One of the wagons was gone as was the driver, probably back to Winterfell to get help.

Anguy swallowed hard as he approached Rickon and kneeled down to him. "My lord, I beg your apologies for what happened. I was told that there no bears in these woods, but my mistake nearly cost you life and the lives of two others."

This was the first time Anguy actually treated Rickon as a lord rather than a student. "You aren't at much fault, Anguy. There aren't supposed to be any bears in these woods, they all live in the upper most part of the North and the mountains. Something must've driven them south. However, I order you to return my sword to me."

"Of course, my lord." Anguy stood up and immediately untied Snow from his side and gave it back to Rickon.

"Let this be a warning. If you ever take this from me again, I'll have your first two fingers on each of your hands cut off." Rickon didn't blame him for the bear. It was true that there shouldn't be any this close to Winterfell, but he if had Snow during that whole ordeal, he wouldn't have nearly died.

"You are merciful, my lord." Anguy bowed his head as Rickon tied Snow back around his waist. He turned his gaze to Ralf and Johnna and was glad to see them alright. He walked past anguy and was greeted with a hug from Johnna.

"I'm glad you're alright." She told him.

He felt himself heat up in his face when she let go and smiled at him. Rickon looked over to Ralf and had to honest with him. "You shot, a fucking, bear." Ralf looked saddened at his statement.

"I'm sorry milord, I got scared and thought it was going to chase us."

"That's exactly what is going to happen on the battlefield." Rickon informed. "An army of over two hundred thousand is going to charge at us while we fire arrows at them. Are you going to do something stupid when that happens and die? Or will you make sure it won't happen again and live through it all?"

Ralf looked determined now and nodded his head. Rickon gave a reassuring smile to him before a loud screech filled the sky. Everyone looked up and saw four dragons flying to Winterfell.

"It's the King and Queen," Anguy said, "They've returned."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder to leave a review of what I could do to make the War for the dawn a good read. Also a reminder that it is not a suggestion box for ideas of what should happen, but how to write better, also anyone who say a character should live will contribute to that characters death. So vote for Cersei to live, am I right? XD


	59. Daenerys XI

Daenerys

The clear skies of the evening gave absolute free range for Daenerys and Drogon to take to heights clouds restricted. But with such cold temperatures and a freezing gust brushing past her face, Daenerys kept lower to the ground. Jon and Missandei followed her closely on Rhaegal while Ygris and Lyarras kept close to them. They had seen many things during their return flight from Highgarden. The Reach and Lannister armies marching North with the Unsullied and Dothraki and nearly a dozen castles and villages.

It wasn't until Winterfell appeared over the horizon did Daenerys feel comfort and relief, forgetting about the cold. She hadn't spent as much time there as she did in Dragonstone, but something about that place made her feel like it was home. But the feeling slightly diminished at the sight of the growing army around the castle. All of it kept to one side of the rode that led into the castle, specifically the side that the dragons didn't nest at.

Rhaegal, Ygris, and Lyarras all landed immediately, but Daenerys and Drogon circled around Winterfell once before preparing to land. With Drogon's massive size, the other dragons had to be first and move afterwards, otherwise Drogon would become territorial and take up all the space.

By the time Drogon swooped down and landed next to his kin, Jon and Missandei had already dismounted Rhaegal and was waiting for Daenerys. Drogon slowly lowered his body and neck as close to ground as he could before Daenerys climbed off with Jon's assistance.

"It's good to be back." Daenerys declared.

"I couldn't agree more." Jon replied before planting a light kiss on her lips. They both smiled as they walked arm in arm back to Winterfell. In the corner of her eye, Daenerys could see Missandei smiling to the ground as she followed them.

When they reached the gates, they were greeted by none other than Lord Reed followed by two of his crannogmen dressed in heavy cloaks. "Welcome back, my King and Queen." Lord Reed gave a courteous bow along with his men to Jon and Daenerys.

"It's good to see you again, Lord Reed." Jon told him.

"Lord Brandon has requested your presence in the Godswood."

Jon sighed, as if anticipating such news. "Of course he is." Lord Reed stepped aside with his men to let Jon and Daenerys through. As Jon tried to walk forward, Daenerys tugged on his arm and stopped him. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm just feeling a bit tired from our journey. I think I'll retire for the evening." Though she was tired, Daenerys didn't like being around Bran. His empty mood and knowledge of everything made her feel uncomfortable.

"I'll join you after I meet with Bran." Jon said, smiling as her before letting go of her arm and following Lord Reed to the Godswood.

Daenerys walked through the courtyard with Missandei next to her, passing others who were working hard preparing for the war. Even though she was married to Jon and accepted by the Northern Lords, she felt that people kept their distance from her, but did it politely. It wasn't long before the two of them reached Daenerys's chambers.

"Would you like me to have a bath drawn for you, your Grace?" Missandei asked, being professional as always.

"Not tonight," Daenerys replied, "maybe in the morning." Missandei nodded as she helped Daenerys out of her thick winter dress and into a purple silk nightgown. She unbraided her hair and set her rings next to the pillow that her crown rested upon. Daenerys noticed a tight fit on her breasts and wasn't bothered by it, but knew she would need her clothes resized for her pregnancy.

"Will there be anything else, your Grace?" Missandei asked as Daenerys gently tied a band around her waist.

"No, that will be all." Missandei bowed her head and started to walk out of the room. Daenerys was always amazed at how faithful Missandei always was to her, not just as an advisor, but as a friend as well.

"Missandei." Daenerys said, stopping her.

Missandei turned around to face her Queen. "Yes, your Grace?"

Daenerys was hesitant to speak to her. "When Jon and I take the Iron Throne back and the Seven Kingdoms, would it be wrong of me to ask that stay with me?"

Missandei grew a small smile that was comforting to Daenerys. "If I wanted to go back to Naath, I know you wouldn't object to my request."

"Of course not, it's your home after all."

"It is the place of my birth, but not my home. Home is where I was freed from the masters. Home is where my friend ended slavery. Home is where I choose to make it. I choose to make the world you're going to create my home."

"But what about your family? Don't you want to see them again?"

Missandei's expression turned grim and somber. "My family is gone from this world. I have nothing left to return to in Naath."

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to pry like that."

"There's nothing to forgive, your Grace." Missandei returned to her comforting smile. "Will that be all, my Queen?"

Daenerys returned her a smile. "Yes, it will."

"Goodnight, your Grace."

"Goodnight, my friend."

Moments after Missandei left, Jon had entered the room, looking more broody than usual. He removed his crown and place it on its pillow next to Daenerys's before working on his cloak and armor.

"How did your talk with Bran go? Any news worth mentioning?"

Jon sighed as if disappointed. "Nothing good." He told her as he placed his black Stark armor on an armor stand before placing the already removed gorget over it. "Cersei's placed all of her Wildfire underneath King's Landing. If we survive the war against the dead and our army is still stronger than hers, she might destroy the city."

Daenerys sat down and the bed before letting her body fall onto it. She felt irritated and upset at Cersei. No matter what they did, it seemed that if Cersei couldn't sit on the Iron Throne, no one could. "You were right."

"About what?"

"What you said to me when we first met at Dragonstone. We're all just children playing at a game, screaming that the rules aren't fair."

"I don't mean that anymore, at least to you." Daenerys lifted her head up from the bed while arching her brow, wondering if that was just him being flattering or honest.

"We'll have to think of a way to get the Wildfire out of the city. And if we can't do that, we'll have to figure out how to get the people out."

"Bran's staying in the Godswood for a few more hours to see if he can see anything that will help us." Jon was finally out of his regular attire and into his night clothes as he walked over to the bed and joined Daenerys on top of it, lying over the fur covers and staring up at the ceiling.

The solemn mood was broken when a knock on the door frame sounded. Jon and Daenerys both looked over and saw Rickon. "Can I come in?" He asked nervously, looking as if he might've interrupted something.

"Of course," Jon told him as he and Daenerys sat up, "is there something wrong?"

"Yes and no," Rickon said, confusing both of them, "I went hunting today about ten miles from the castle and almost got killed by a bear."

"A bear?" Jon asked, intrigued. "There're no bears around here."

"I know, yet there was one. I told it to Bran just now and he said the animals are all fleeing south. They can feel the Night King growing closer."

"We'll have to have our hunter go in larger groups. How'd you get away?" As if on cue, the large white direwolf popped his head out from around the corner and stood next to Rickon. Daenerys was wide eyed, never before seeing a wolf of such size or color. The wolf looked at her with ruby red eyes and he was bandaged all across his neck as he came into full view. Jon smiled widely as he got up and approached his companion. "You always wonder off on me boy." Jon said as he rustled his hand through the fur on his direwolf's head.

"He fought off the bear before Nymeria and her pack killed it." Rickon announced, looking proud of the direwolf.

"Nymeria's here too?" Jon asked excitedly. Daenerys had to assume that they were talking about the other direwolf of the litter Jon found with his siblings.

"She's staying in the forest. I think she's waiting for Arya."

"Jon," Daenerys said, "aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Sorry," Jon said, "this is Ghost. If you didn't call your dragon your children, he would be to me what they would be to you." Ghost left Jon's side and walked right up to Daenerys, sniffing at her belly. "I think he knows there's another wolf in the room somewhere."

Daenerys giggled a bit before nervously petting Ghost over his head. He didn't look like a normal wolf should, he looked quiet and peaceful. Ghost turned his gaze up to her and gave an unsettling stare. For some odd reason, Daenerys felt like Ghost recognized her.

Quietly, Ghost left her side and returned to Rickon's. "I see he still prefers you over me now." Jon stated, looking betrayed. "It's getting late, off to bed with you."

Rickon sighed at Jon. "Alright. I'll see you in the morning." Rickon and Ghost left Jon and Daenerys alone and Jon closed the door behind them. He blew out the lanterns in the room before returning to the bed. He got under the fur blanket and Daenerys joined him. She placed one hand under her pillow and the other over Jon's chest.

"I'm glad I got to finally meet your direwolf."

"I'm surprised at how calm you were. Most people jump when they see him."

"I've spent the past few years with dragons at my side. Ghost looked more calming than intimidating."

Jon chuckled at her observation. "Don't let him hear you say that. He'll prove you wrong on the battlefield."

"I hope so," Daenerys told him, "we'll need all the strength we can get." Daenerys's thought dwelled over the oncoming doom that they could not escape. But her fatigue got the better of her and she felt her eyelids starting to weigh down. "Sweet dreams, my wolf."

Jon placed his hand over hers and kiss for forehead. "And to you, my dragon."

* * *

The winter night became blessed with a light snowfall as the moon was swallowed by the clouds. All around Winterfell, many souls were sleeping a with a gifted slumber. But there were those who could not enjoy such a feeling. In the bedchambers of the King and Queen, there was one soul who was tormented with nightmares, much so that its mother began to share them.

After passing through the veil of darkness that was sleep, Daenerys unexplainably found herself in a place she knew she had been before. She was standing in front of a lift contraption that carried men to the top of the great Wall of ice. She curiously gazed around at her surroundings as she walked to a railing overlooking the courtyard and saw a large group of men, all wearing black, surrounding nothing as if they were waiting for something.

Her gaze shifted when she saw two people enter the courtyard, one a small boy, but the other she recognized, he was her husband after all. But looked so different than how she knew him. He didn't were his hair in a bun and his beard was much thinner.

He was lead to the empty space the men surrounded and then had a troubled look on his face when he saw what they surrounded. Daenerys leaned her head over and saw Jon staring at a sign that read 'TRAITOR.'

Daenerys gasped out of fear and shock when Jon turned around and was stabbed by his own men. "For the Watch," they all said as some of them took turned burying their knives into Jon's body. Now she knew where she was and more so when she was. Realizing this was a dream, Daenerys desperately wanted to wake up so that she would not have to witness such a sight. She looked at Jon's face and could see the emotions he felt. Confusion, loneliness, fear, and sadness. Having to watch him be like that broke her heart when the young boy he came with used his own knife and planted it into Jon's heart. Like all of them, he spoke the words, "for the Watch."

Jon fell back into the snow and all the men who betrayed him left his body to freeze. When they had completely dispersed from the courtyard and the blood began to spread, Daenerys slowly walked over to Jon's body and stood him, near the verge of tears. But before she could do anything, Daenerys found herself in a cold room. Jon was lying on a table, stripped naked and his wounds clean. Someone had closed his eyes and he looked like he was resting. Ghost was lying down next to the table, being ever faithful and remaining with his friend.

Without even thinking to, Daenerys reached her hand out and felt the skin of Jon's check, as if trying to tell him everything would be alright. The moment her skin touched his, Ghost shifted and raised his head up, looking directly at her. Daenerys pulled her hand away, mystified at Ghost's gaze at her. Could he really see her or was he looking at Jon? Before she could do anything to confirm anything, Jon was suddenly gasping desperately for air.

Daenerys woke from her visions, finding herself back in bed with Jon, her hand directly over Jon's scar. She shivered when she realized she witnessed his first death and resurrection. But looking at him now calmed her down. He looked so peaceful sleeping and felt so warm.

Unable to regain the desire to sleep, fearing that she might witness another vision like what she saw, Daenerys slowly moved out of Jon's touch and climbed out of bed, leaving him to rest. She put on some easy to wear boots and Jon's winter cloak, since she did not have one of her own yet, and left the room. She left the warmth of the castle and out to the cold night of snowfall. The castle was nothing like what is was during the day. There was no sound of hammers striking steel, no sound of saws cutting through wood, it was utter silence. But, even with the mood as peaceful as it was, the guards on watch duty distracted Daenerys from finding peace, so she went to the one place she knew there would be no guards.

Things always became calm when she was in the Godswood. She never took to any gods, even after all she has seen, but in the presence of the weirwood was were some of the greatest moments she had took place. Her first Kiss with Jon and even her wedding with him. Everything that was evil never seemed to invade such a place.

As she drew closer to the weirwood, Daenerys stopped when she saw Bran in his wheelchair sitting next to it. He wasn't in the middle of his warging, but he was staring off into the distance. She wanted to turn around, but he took notice to her presence. "Your grace," he spoke soft but loud enough for her to hear, "you can't sleep?"

Daenerys cautiously approached him, nervous of what he would tell her. "I just had a bad dream is all." She told him.

"You saw Jon die." Already Daenerys felt shivers run through her body. She did not hate Bran, but she didn't like when he would know everything.

"I did. It's not the first vision I've had, but usually they don't make much sense."

"It wasn't your vision you were witnessing, it was your son's."

Daenerys froze, finding herself unable to speak immediately. "M-my son's?"

"You have greenseer inside you, Daenerys Stormborn. While you carry him inside you, he will show you and his brother what he sees."

"Brother? I'm having two sons?" He didn't reply since he already stated the answer to that question before it was asked. Daenerys did feel some joy, but it was overshadowed by fear of what Bran's power was, and he knew it. "How do you see what you see?"

"It's difficult to explain." His gaze turned to the snow falling around them. "Look at the snow," Daenerys followed his gaze and did as he instructed, "do you see how they all fall in front of you, passing by and disappearing before another takes one's place? I see everything that was and is like this. It all passes by, but if I focus on one, I can see the details of it." He held his hand out and caught a snowflake that quickly vanished after making contact with his skin. He turned his empty gaze to her and extended his hand out to her. "Would you like me to show you something?"

She wasn't sure whether to accept his offer or not. All of the visions she's ever had always frightened her and never made sense as to why she had them in the first place. Placing her trust in him, Daenerys took Bran's hand cautiously. He maneuvered their hands together so that both of them were placed over her belly before placing his other hand on the weirwood.

Daenerys felt a strange sensation run through her before she realized she was no longer in the Godswood of Winterfell. Instead, she was back at Castle Black with Bran standing next to her on a balcony surrounding the courtyard. But the Castle looked far more lively and populated than it did in her first vision of it.

"This is what the Night's Watch was almost seventy years ago," Bran informed, "there's someone who just arrived I think you should see." Bran led Daenerys through the castle, not giving any head to those around him until they came to a door. Instead of opening it, Bran and Daenerys were suddenly in the room, like changing from one place to another in a dream and not paying attention to it. Inside the two of them saw a man wearing a think black robe and a chain around his neck sitting down at a desk and going through scrolls. He had long silver hair and his eyes were the same as Daenerys's.

"He's a Targaryen." Daenerys deduced.

"He sent you a letter before he died."

Daenerys became speechless when she realized who this was. Her great uncle Aemon looked far different than she imagined, but then again, she only did imagine what he looked like at the age he was when he sent the letter.

The door behind them opened and another man walked in, carrying a white bow in his hand and a beautiful longsword strapped to his hip. The hilt was gold with a black leather wrapped handle and a large ruby planted in the center of the metal that wrapped around it forming the guard, making it look like a blood red eye of the sword. He carried a satchel at his side that looked like it was heavy with luggage. The man himself had similar features to Aemon that only another Targaryen could have. Unlike Aemon however, he did not wear the black of the Night's Watch.

"How was the hunt?" Aemon asked.

"The game was fair, we shot enough rabbits for a week." The other man said, his tone like Bran's lack any emotion in his words.

"What about him?" Daenerys asked.

"That man is Brynden Rivers." Bran informed.

Daenerys knew full well the man who belonged to that name. The Bloodraven who had a thousand eyes and one. Brynden leaned his bow up against the desk and took a seat next to Aemon. "How's your vision fairing?"

Aemon set the scroll he was currently reading down and sighed at his kin. "Not well. I can see things up close, but nothing far away."

"Can't you do anything about it? Every illness has a cure, even Greyscale."

"I could, but I can't. My request for materials and tomes from the Citadel was denied. It won't be long until it gets worse."

"You'll manage. We're the blood of the dragon, and dragons do not let petty things like this stop us." Brynden removed the satchel from his side and placed it on the desk. "These are for you, to keep safe." He opened the lid and pulled out two dragon eggs, one blue and one white, both turned to stone.

Aemon looked shocked and mystified. "Where did you get these?"

"The blue one I received from a contact who found it in a market in Essos. The white one I stole from Whitewalls before the second pretender tried claim it before his rebellion." Brynden stared at the eggs looking full of shame. "That's why I killed Aenys. He knew I had the eggs and was going to claim them if I didn't stop him in time."

Aemon picked up the blue one and moved his hands over the scaled surface. "Brynden, I cannot take these."

"You can and you must. Once I take my vows, I'll be made a ranger and go beyond the Wall who knows how many times. I cannot take these with me every time I go."

"Send them to Aegon, I'm sure he can keep them far better protected."

"He probably could, but what his children after him? How would the eggs be safe if a mad Targaryen sat on the throne? You and I both know that these are more than just stone."

As Aemon set the egg back onto the desk, there was a quick knock on the door. "Commander Mugswood is coming." A man's voice said.

Brynden and Aemon put the eggs back into the satchel and slung it over the backing of Aemon's chair. The door opened and in walked a older man with a thick short beard and long brown hair that was starting to grey. "Bloodraven," he said in a thick northern accent, "it's time for you to become a man of the Watch with the others."

"By your orders, Lord Commander." Brynden said with a courteous nod. Daenerys's gaze followed him as he picked up his bow and followed the Lord Commander out of the room, leaving Aemon to himself.

When Brynden closed the door behind him, Daenerys turned her head back to Aemon and was shocked to see that they were in a completely different room and Aemon was in a bed, far older than before. His hair was short and thin and he looked to be near a hundred years old. Sitting next to his bed was Samwell and the Wildling girl, Gilly, while her baby Little Sam was lying near her wrapped in blankets. Daenerys walked over and stood directly behind Sam as he kept watch over Aemon.

"Egg," Aemon called out softly, "Egg… mother's looking for you. Egg."

"Get some sleep Sam," Gilly said, "you'll have to speak for him tomorrow."

"You don't know that." Sam told her.

"Get some sleep, I'll watch over him."

"I'm staying too. He's always been good to me, I can't leave him now."

"Egg!" Everyone except for Bran gasped as Aemon's hand shot up and Sam held it gently. Aemon's breathing became heavy and he looked weak and blindly gazed at the ceiling. "Egg… I dreamed that I was old."

Daenerys was starting to feel heartbroken watching him like this. She regretted taking Bran's offer to see this vision. But all emotion within her froze as Aemon's head drifted and his eyes locked with hers. He breathed heavily and then looked happy without even smiling. Then his breathing stopped and his eyes fell close to being shut.

The next thing she knew, Daenerys was back in the Godswood with Bran and he took his hand off of her belly. She felt a stinging in her eyes and wiped away tears that were just about to fall. "Why would you show me that?" She asked, her voice choking.

"I thought you would want to see him. He was the only other Targaryen who had love for you in this world besides Jon and your Mother. I thought you should see who he was long before he sent you that letter."

"But why then? Why did you make me watch him die?"

"I didn't bring us there, your son did." Daenerys moved her hand over her belly, surprised but still saddened from witnessing such an event. "He wanted you see that."

"But why? Why would my child want to show me something like that?"

"I don't know the answer to that question. But I do know that Maester Aemon saw you when he looked at you. He got to see his family before he left this world." All of this was too confusing for Daenerys. These were only visions. How could her great uncle have seen her? "I'm still learning to understand the power I have, but I don't need it to know when someone gives another a gift."

 _'Was that what that was, a gift?'_  "Why would my son give that to me?"

"Why do we give gifts to anyone?"

Daenerys was clueless and thought this was some form of riddle. But when the simple answer crossed her mind, she couldn't hold back her tears any longer.  _'Because we love them.'_ She wiped her cheeks clean and gathered her composure. "Thank you, Bran."

Back in her room, Daenerys returned to bed and kept close to Jon. He slowly moved his arm around her shoulders and held her softly. "Everything alright?" he asked softly, still half asleep.

Daenerys's smiled as she rested her head over his breast. "We're having two boys." She told him.

Jon lifted his head and opened his eyes, still groggy. "How do you know?"

"Bran told me." Daenerys lifted her head up and saw Jon smiling at her. "Now all we have to do is name them."

Jon laughed quietly as he let his head fall onto his pillow. "Do you have any suggestions?"

Daenerys thought about the question. One of her sons was a dragon and the other a direwolf. They could each have a name that fit their blood. One a Targaryen and one a Stark. "Aemon," she quietly said, "after our uncle who kept watch over you."

"It sounds perfect," he told her, "what about his brother?"

"You should pick. He'll be a Direwolf like you so he should have a Northern name."

Jon let out a large exhale and shook his head. "I can't think of any of my family that have a good name that fits with Targaryen."

"So choose your own." She nuzzled her head onto his body and let herself drift away back to sleep, knowing neither her or her sons would be plagues with nightmares. The last word she heard before falling into slumber made her heart feel warm.

"Matthias."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you guys think? Daenerys is not a Greenseer, but because her son is and inside her, she can share that ability and she does have Targaryen dreams so do you think it works? Also I know the name Matthias is out of no where, but I like it, so yeah. Don't forget to leave a review, they're always appreciated.


	60. Sansa V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter SUCKED! I don't know why it took me so long to do it! I wrote three different versions and this one was the one I least hated. I do not blame anyone if they do not enjoy this or the next chapter which will be uploaded very soon, like later today soon.

Sansa

Even though it felt wonderful to be back home, things could not have been more stressing than they were turning into. With all of the soldiers pouring in from the south, many problems arose that were more than needed to be dealt with.

More than one hundred game wardens had to protect the wildlife in the forests within fifteen miles around Winterfell to keep it from dying out. But luckily many of the soldiers who came brought caravans of food and supplies from their own respective regions. The Reach was even bringing extra shipments of food to North, to what was hopefully a sign of good faith.

One of the bigger problems though was figuring out the best way to organize the camps so that one realm wouldn't be situated next to another that quarreled against each other. Even with help, such a task was far more difficult than it seemed given that near every realm has fought against the other at one point in time and some people are too stubborn to move on.

It was then determined that since the Night's Watch could not guard the Wall, they would act as peacekeepers long enough for everyone to remember that fighting amongst themselves was the last thing they needed.

Sansa joined Daenerys, Jon, and Tormund in Great Hall, sitting at a table discussing some minor things regarding the war counsel with every lord and commander that would be representing the armies. Ser Jorah kept his vigil watch over the Queen a few paces from them all.

"There will be over two hundred people gathered together," Jon informed, "The ideal place to do it would be in the courtyard, but there's not enough room and too many people will be at work."

"What about on the hill just outside the castle?" Sansa suggested. "You could stand at the foot of it and address them all."

Tormund shook his head at the idea. "There's not going to be any unoccupied land outside the castle for two miles when the rest of the armies get here. But there are some huts that are still empty. I can get the Free Folk and the Giants to rebuild them into a longhouse big enough to fit everyone of these commanders and six giants."

No one was objecting long enough to assume that would be the best course of action. "Then let's not delay any further." Jon said. Tormund nodded at him and got up from his seat to leave to his duties.

As he left the room, a Stark guard entered in his place. "Your Grace, Lord Edric Dayne is about to arrive."

"The Dornish are here already?" Daenerys asked.

"No your Grace, just Lord Dayne and four of his guard."

"This is curious, but by all means, let us not be terrible hosts and not greet him." Daenerys suggested to which Jon and Sansa both agreed.

Near the gates, Jon, Daenerys, Sansa, Rickon who joined them out of desire to meet Lord Dayne, and Ser Jorah stood by as Edric rode in on a Dornish Stallion followed by his men, one of which carried the Dayne banner. Ghost sat next to Rickon and earned a great deal of attention from many who were still not used to his presence.

"Your grace!" Edric addressed as he dismounted his horse and approached Jon. "I'm glad to have made this quick." He quickly bent the Knee to Jon and Daenerys and his men followed his example.

"Rise, Lord Dayne." Jon said before Edric obeyed. Something Sansa noticed was that Edric had not stopped looking happy since he entered the gates. "We thought you would be with your troops."

"No, they're still a few days away, along with a certain something I owe to you." Sansa felt a little excited to see the crown of Aegon the Conqueror herself. There were few relics of the Targaryens of old and that was one of them. "I hope I didn't cause I problem arriving early, I was just too eager to see Winterfell for the first time, let alone be in it."

"There's no problem at all, Lord Dayne." Sansa said, being ever so courteous as a lady should be. "Though I am afraid to say that we have no vacant rooms in the castle." Edric's smile died and he looked like someone beat him at his own game. "Is something wrong, my lord?"

"In my haste to get here, I did not have any of my men bring with us any means to camp. Those supplies are with my army I'm afraid. But I'm sure we can manage something."

"You can take my room for now," Rickon offered, looking full well ready to do so.

"My Lord Stark," Edric said, "I appreciate the offer, but I couldn't usurp the room of my host. And if I did, where would you sleep?"

"My bed used to belong to my older brother so it's large enough and I won't be using tonight anyway, so you might as well."

"What do you mean?" Jon asked, looking confused as everyone else was. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing, I'm just going to spend the next few nights with some friends."

"What friends?" Sansa asked.

"The ones who were with me when we almost got killed by the bear before Ghost saved us." Sansa had a sudden flashback to when Rickon told her and Arya about that. Sansa become a concerned mother figure while Arya laughed the whole thing off.

"A bear," Edric said, "now that is story you'll have to tell me one day, my Lord. Very well, I accept your offer so long as it's alright with the King himself."

All eyes turned to Jon as he chuckled quietly. "I wouldn't want you to only keep Ghost as company." He said directly to Rickon. "I'll allow it, but only until his army arrives with his things." Rickon grew a large smile and looked like he was the happiest person in the world. Jon shifted his attention back to Edric. "I think we have some vacant huts in the camps your men can use for the nights."

"Splendid. I'll see that they get situated before I do. But when I return, I would properly like to meet that Direwolf of yours." Edric looked fascinated at Ghost whereas many others before him only looked afraid. He bowed his head to all of them before leaving with his men.

"Sansa," Daenerys said.

"Yes?"

"You haven't stopped smiling ever since Edric rode in through the gates."

Sansa's smiled disappeared quickly and her expression became slightly embarrassed. She wasn't even paying attention to herself the entire time. In fact, she was keeping all of her focus on Edric. "I'm just glad that I finally got to meet with him more than I did at the Dragonpit."

That was the best answer she could give at the moment since she didn't know why she was smiling at him to begin with.

* * *

A few days passed by and all around the castle were soldiers from all over the world. The only host missing from what was pledged to aid against the fight in the North was the last of the Dothraki from Highgarden, but word from a Wildling warg had reached that they would arrive very soon.

After finally getting comfortable being in Tyene's presence, Sansa found herself spending a lot more time with her in Winterfell along with Missandei of Naath, seeing as they were the only ladies around near her age. Daenerys was occupied with Jon and her duties as Queen so there was rarely anytime they could have leisurely with her. Arya spent very little time in the castle compared to Sansa though. Ever since Rickon told her that Nymeria was in the forest near the castle, Arya was determined to find her.

The three of them were standing on the balconies of Winterfell, watching Edric Dayne having a sparring match with one of the Unsullied soldiers that Missandei couldn't seem to take her eyes off of. The two of them had been going at it for near an hour now and neither of them could best the other. But even with all of their fighting, Sansa could tell that both of them were shivering from the cold. The three ladies were dressed in thick fabrics meant for the winter, but Edric and the Unsullied man were in fine leathers, only suitable for warmth in a Northern summer.

"My money's on the Unsullied," Tyene said openly. "Who's your money on?" When Edric learned of Tyene's survival and presence in Winterfell, he tried to get her to agree being naturalized and become the head of House Martell, but Tyene refused him, stating it wouldn't matter soon enough.

"I do not place bets," Missandei informed. "But if I were to, I have no doubt that Grey Worm will win." Ever since the Unsullied arrived, Missandei had been brighter and more cheerful, and she spent much time with the commander that made her suspect that the two of them were more than what they appeared to be.

"What makes you certain?" Sansa asked. "From what I've seen, Lord Dayne has a better offence, but his opponent levels the playing field with an equally skilled defense." She wouldn't place any bet either, but she had full confidence that Edric would win.

"There's a difference in their fighting," Tyene said, looking ever watchful at every movement, "Edric has better skill than Grey Worm, but he hasn't the experience of a real battle which is something Grey Worm looks like he has."

Sansa switched from looking at their fighting to looking at their moods. Edric looked very calm and determined, but he knew that this was only a sparring match. Grey Worm on the other hand looked composed and hardened, treating this like a real battle.

Edric had just parried a thrust made to him and tried to swing his sparring sword down on the wooden staff the Unsullied wielded to break it, but he was bashed with a shield before he could. Edric kept his distance and looked like fatigue was starting to wrap around him, but he could see that it was also happening to his opponent.

"You look tired Grey Worm," Edric taunted, "maybe you should rest."

"I can stand guard for days without food or water."

"Yes, but can you fight for days without food or water?" Edric twirled his sword in his hand before advancing on Grey Worm. The Unsullied commander made another thrust at Edric who easily dodged it and was able to grab hold of the shaft this time. Before Greyworm could push Edric away, Edric pulled himself under the staff and kept on the outside of Greyworm. Edric used his grip on the staff to create a barrier that Greyworm wouldn't be able to reach passed. But before he could bring up his sword in a position for a yield, Greyworm let go of his shield and gripped the staff with his other hand. With a powerful bash with the spear, Edric was knocked away and stumbled backwards. The next thing he knew, Greyworm swept the staff under his feet and he toppled over. In the split second he had before the end of the staff representing the spearhead was pointed at his body, Edric rolled towards Greyworm in the snow and managed to wrap an arm his Greyworm's leg and held the round tip of his sword at the location of an artery in the leg. Had it been a real sword in a real fight, Edric would've won and Greyworm knew that.

Sansa failed to keep a smile to herself as she looked over to Missandei and Tyene who looked beaten. "Aren't you both glad neither of you have any money to lose?" Sansa jested as she looked back at the two men.

"I concede." Greyworm admitted as he offered a hand to Edric who gladly accepted. "Well fought, Lord of the Stars."

"Thank you, my friend, but that name belongs to someone else I'm afraid." Edric brushed the snow off of him before wiping a cold sweat from his brow. "I think that's enough for the morning, wouldn't you agree?"

"No, the Unsullied are prepared to train at any moment of any day."

Edric chuckled as he patted Greyworm on the back. "Soldiers until the end. Come, I saw a barrel of ale in the other courtyard. Let's go share a drink of it." The two of them approached a weapon rack and placed their training weapons back where they got them.

"I have had wine before, I didn't like it at all."

"Wine, shmine," Edric scoffed, "I'm talking about a Northern ale. Wine is for fancy lords and ladies who drink to make themselves look fancier. Ale is warriors of every breed!" Edric noticed the cold stares he was receiving from the audience of ladies on the balconies and just shrugged his shoulders at them, as if asking  _'Am I wrong?'_  He wrapped his sword belt around his hip and pulled it tight. Not only did he have First Light hanging from it, but he chose to bring Dawn as well. He did not claim it as the Sword of the Morning. But given the circumstances, the living would need every sword it could get. "Come!" Edric put one arm over Greyworm's shoulders and forced him to join.

"You were certain Dayne would win," Tyene said to Sansa as she rested her elbows on the wooden railing and leaned back, "but I can tell you're not knowledgeable enough in swordplay to have known."

"I didn't know he would win," Sansa replied, "but I've watched my brothers train growing up and just guessed from what I saw before."

"You watched boys playing while growing up," Tyene countered, "these were men sparring."

She made a valid point and Sansa could see that there was no way to give a good answer that wasn't the honest one. Tyene herself was a great fighter so she would know if what she said would be real input or just something to make her sound like she knew she was talking about.

"I guessed that Edric would win because I hoped that he would win." Sansa admitted, causing Tyene to arch her brow high.

"And why, pray tell, did you hope that the Lord of Starfall would win?"

That was a question that Sansa couldn't seem to answer for she did not know it. She couldn't deny that she admired something about him, but she couldn't figure out what. She thought about the way he fought and how he looked like a gallant knight facing his enemy. "I suppose it's because he reminds me of what I dreamed of when I was a little girl. A brave knight as honorable as my father and fearless in battle." Just saying that amused her as she shook her head. "But those were just dreams of a stupid little girl with stupid dreams before she learned the world is nothing that we learn it to be."

"The world is in fact shit." Tyene agreed. "But it's not shit enough to not want to dream of something better is it?" Tyene shifted her gaze to Missandei. "You were a slave before you met the Dragon Queen right? What was that like?"

Missandei shifted and folded her hands in front of her. "I'd rather not say. It's not so much as describing what living was like, but more of what it feels like to property rather than a person."

"But surely even you must've wished for something better."

"Of course I did. I would sometimes dream of being back in Naath with my family, or living with people I could call my friends. It wasn't long until I achieved one of them."

"My point exactly." Tyene pushed herself off of the railing and faced Sansa. "We've all faced some of the worst the world has had to give us, yet here we are. It's the gift of our dreams and hopes that make it so the world doesn't have to be the shit one we think we live in until we live no more. Valar Morghulis"

"All men must die," Missendai translated, "but we are not men."

"Indeed, we are not." The three of them walked together on the balconies surrounding the training yard and entered onto the battlements surrounding the main courtyard. They found Edric and Greyworm standing in their path, looking out to the armies.

"Tell me what you see." Edric said to Grey Worm.

Greyworm sighed as he gazed over the battlements. "I see the armies making camp."

"Yes, can you tell me what kind of soldiers you see?"

"The Unsullied, the Dothraki, Stark, Lannister, there's a banner for almost every house out there."

"Exactly. Isn't that the greatest thing you have ever seen?"

Greyworm looked at him, puzzled once again. "I do not understand."

Edric smiled at him for missing the big picture. "What you just looked at is probably the greatest army the world has ever seen, and probably will ever see. I can guarantee you that someone probably wants to kill someone else standing next to them, but that hasn't happened. All of these men come from kingdoms that have all fought with and against each other at some point in the history of Westeros. But for the first time ever, they fight together. One Country as one army with one purpose."

As Greyworm was understanding what Edric meant, he looked out to the encampment once more, but this time he really looked at it. To Edric's pleasure, Greyworm formed a proud smile.

Edric noticed the ladies approaching them and turned to face them. "My ladies, did you enjoy the match?"

"Very much, Lord Dayne." Sansa replied.

Tyene shrugged her shoulders at them. "It would've been better with live steel."

Edric gained some amusement from her. "Yes, but we don't anyone to die before the battle happens, do we?" Edric turned his gaze back to the armies, but something caught his eye. "Ah, if I had to guess, I would say that the last of the Dothraki are arriving."

Everyone turned their heads to look out over the ramparts and could see a large group of Dothraki riding on the road, a force of near five hundred. A small group broke off and continued onward to the castle while the rest turned to join the rest of the horde in the camps.

After looking closer at the smaller group, Sansa noticed a small detail about it. "Those two aren't Dothraki." Two of the riders approaching the castle were not dressed in the furs the Dothraki wore. Instead, one of them was in Lannister armor and the other in gold tinted armor.

"Finally," Tyene said with an eager face, "my man arrives." She departed from everyone and immediately went to greet the riders.


	61. Jaime V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make this an Edric POV at first, but as I got halfway through it, I realized it had to be Jaime. Edric will get a chapter, but not today

Jaime

The weathers during the course of travel to the North were very kind of the Dothraki from Highgarden. The snows were light, the trails clear, and the days the sun shone were relatively warm if not for the cold air. The morning light of the sun danced in the clouds But even with a delightful setting, the mood was dull and grey. The Dothraki hardly ever spoke to anyone but among themselves and kept to their own language.

Jaime had to admit he was glad to be on a horse rather than walking, but he wished he didn't have to have his arms bound behind him. It was because of Bronn that they were taken as prisoners rather than stragglers. When they encountered the Dothraki on the Kingsroad, they were refused help at first until Bronn told them that they were valuable enemies who almost killed their queen at the Blackwater Rush. If It wasn't Jaime showing them the stone he had, he and Bronn would have been dragged by horses rather than riding them.

Their weapons and the bag that contained the stone were confiscated by a Dothraki who kept by them at all times. But even in such a predicament, Bronn found it easy to stay optimistic about the whole situation, given that he had began signing while on the road.

"As he lay on the ground with the darkness around"

"And the taste of his blood on his tongue"

"His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer"

"And he smiled and he laughed and he sung"

"Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done"

"The Dornishman's taken my life"

"But what does it matter, for all men must die"

"And I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!"

"Quiet!" One of the Dothraki who spoke the common tongue shouted.

"What's the matter with a song?" Bronn asked. "It's the only thing we have to pass the time."

"Singing is for the women and children." The Dothraki spoke.

Bronn shrugged at him. "Your just jealous cuz you can't sing."

The caravan came to a halt on the road and unfortunately for Jaime and Bronn, they couldn't see why since they were at the rear of five hundred men. But that was about to change when a rider from the head rode to them.

"You two," he said, "to the front."

"Of course," Bronn said, "just let us learn how to ride with no hands first." Before the joke could get any reactions, their bonds were cut and their hands freed. Without arguing, Jaime and Bronn followed the rider up to the head of the caravan and came to the top of a hill that overlooked the valley and beyond them was Winterfell. Jaime's mood darkened when he saw the castle. It was here that he practically started the War of the Five Kings. He had heard about Littlefinger's part in the attempted murder of Brandon Stark's life, but it was Jaime's fault the opening was there to begin with. He expected he would be lucky if he would be graced enough to at least have cell to sleep in by tonight.

The leader of the caravan was approached by two other Dothraki on horseback. He spoke something in their language to them while directing their attention at areas in the largest encampment Jaime had ever seen. The two nodded their heads and rode back to the rear of the caravan. "Kisha dothraki!" The leader shouted out as he spurred his horse into a gallop and everyone followed.

Near halfway to the castle, the main section of the caravan broke off to a wide pass for riders to enter the encampment, leaving Jaime and Bronn with an escort of their own consisting of them, the leader, and ten other Dothraki riders.

Entering through the gates into the courtyard felt like entering to door into hell for Jaime. He had absolutely no place here, or anywhere. He was instantly surrounded by Dothraki as he dismounted his horse and waited with Bronn.

"Zoratto!" A Dothraki from the castle began to approach the escort looking happy to see them.

"Abroko!" The leader exclaimed as the two of them shared a brotherly hug. They looked pleased to see each other until the tone of the conversation changed when the leader looked over to Jaime and Bronn.

The one who greeted them said something before leaving them, waiting in the courtyard.

"Nervous?" Bronn asked.

"The last time I was here, I pushed a ten-year-old boy out a window and crippled him." Jaime looked all around him and saw hatred behind eyes of those that recognized him. "If they don't kill me today, then I'll be nervous."

"Don't worry, your brother won't let that happen. And I'm sure the King and Queen won't either."

"I think you're forgetting that we both tried to kill the Queen in battle."

"Aye, we did. But my hide is redeemed for doing what I could in King's Landing before switchin sides. I'm sure once they learn you went as far as to try and kill the Mad Queen, they'll welcome you with open arms."

Jaime scoffed, disbelieving and doubtful of Bronn's prediction. "It's not them I'm worried about. It's every damn lord in the North. The North remembers and so do they." Jaime glanced around the courtyard and saw many hateful stares in his direction.

"Now there's a truly wonderful sight." Bronn said as he stepped passed the Dothraki and into the arms of a young woman. She slapped him across the face that surprised everyone who saw them.

"You're late, handsome." She said.

"And you've just earned a fucking up the ass." Bronn replied casually.

"Can't wait." She began to violently kiss him and lightly bit his lip when she pulled her head away. Her eyes fell onto Jaime and her mood turned from lustful to hateful. "Why is he here?"

"He's was the commander of his sister's armies," Bronn told her, "but after trying to kill her, I think he's been stripped of that title." Bronn turned back to face Jaime. "I believe you've already met Tyene before."

Jaime felt nothing but rage at her. "That I have."

Before things could grow violent, Jaime and the others were graced by Queen Daenerys's Handmaiden, one of the Unsullied, Sansa Stark, and Edric Dayne.

"Welcome, Ser Jaime and Ser Bronn." Sansa greeted. She looked just like her mother, and was every bit as poise as her. "I welcome you to Winterfell. We were expecting you to arrive with your army."

"There were complications," Jaime informed, "I have urgent news for the King and Queen."

"They are preoccupied preparing for the war council that is to take place with all of the present Lords and Commanders. But that won't be for another couple of hours or so. Until then, you can get situated with your men."

"That wouldn't be the best of ideas." Bronn interjected. "For a man with a death sentence on his head, putting him in the middle of the executioners wouldn't be smart."

"Death sentence?" Sansa asked.

"That tends to be what traditionally falls upon someone who tries to kill a Queen." There was a moment of silence between everyone while they all put two and two together to understand what he meant. "Would it be possible for me to see my brother?"

Sansa regained her composure before answering. "Of course, I'm sure he'll be wanting the same."

"I'll escort them to Lord Tyrion." The Handmaiden said.

"Thank you, Missandei." Sansa said.

"If you'll follow me, Ser Jaime." Missandei spoke something in Dothraki to the men escorting Jaime, one them was the one who had his things, before leading them into the castle. It wasn't long until they came to a closed door guarded by two Unsullied soldiers. Missandei knocked a few times before opening the door. "Forgive me for the intrusion, Lord Tyrion, but Ser Jaime has arrived."

Jaime stepped forward into view of Tyrion and Varys were both sitting down at a table. "What a coincidence," Varys said, "we were just talking about him and some rumors that I believe will be pleasing to the King and Queen." Varys got up from his seat and folded his arms into his clothes. "I'll excuse myself so that the two of you can have a moment." Varys left the company and Tyrion who gestured for Jaime to take his place.

Before he entered, Jaime swiped the satchel Harry gave him from the Dothraki who carried it. "This stays with me." Jaime said, as the large man put a hand on the pommel of his curved sword.

Missandei spoke something to him and he retreated from any aggression. "You may keep your bag," she told him, "but your weapons will have to remain with us until you see the King and Queen."

"Not unreasonable to ask." Jaime agreed. "Thank you for the hospitality." He walked inside and the door was closed behind him. To Jaime's surprise, Tyrion did not have any form of wine or ale within his reach. "Going sober, little brother?"

"The only way that would happen is if the stores of ale ran out." The two of them shared a small bit of laughter together. "I'm sorry about your child." Tyrion said as he turned grim.

"I'm not." Jaime admitted, shocking Tyrion. "Better to be with Myrcella and Tommen than wherever Joffrey will be greeting Cersei when she dies." Jaime took a seat next to Tyrion and placed the satchel on the table.

"What's in the bag?" Tyrion prodded.

"A gift for the King and Queen."

"Yes, but what is it?"

"Am I not entitled to surprise you?"

It wasn't long until the door opened and Missandei walked in. "The King and Queen will see you before the war council."

"War council?" Jaime asked.

"To plan for the battle at the Wall."

"Of course, forgive me."

"I'm afraid we don't have any rooms to spare in the castle and the barracks are full."

"It's not a problem, Missandei." Tyrion told her. "He'll be guest in my quarters until we can find suitable accommodations. Could you have some meals sent please?"

"Absolutely, Lord Tyrion." Missandei gave courteous bow before departing.

Left alone again, Jaime expected that these moments might even be his last. He was hated by almost all of the world so it would be no surprise to him if he were to lose his head tonight. "I just realized something little brother."

"What would that be?" Tyrion asked.

"I never learned how in seven hells a hideous looking dwarf became the Hand to such a young and beautiful queen."

"Hideous?" Tyrion asked, mocking Jaime's statement. "You're still jealous that even with a scar I'm better looking than you." Tyrion hopped down from his seat and approached a trunk in the corner of his room. He opened and dug through it for a minute before retrieving a flask. "Let me tell you a tale of a lion, a spider, and a bear that met a dragon."

* * *

The light of the outside sky was turning into the orange of twilight as the early night of winter quickly came. After some hot meals and a long story, Missandei returned to Tyrion's Solar and found to men laughing at tales of Meereen.

"I swear it by all the gods!" Tyrion exclaimed, while trying to contain himself. "The poor man pissed himself when Greyworm killed the masters next to him!"

If it weren't for the alcohol in him, Jaime wouldn't be on the verge of tears laughing. But he and Tyrion calmed down when they saw Missandei standing in the doorway, wearing a smile that was tolerating them.

"Forgive us," Tyrion said, "too much wine."

"This is exactly the reason why you are denied any when you're alone." Missandei let out a big sigh and recomposed herself. "It's time for the meeting to begin."

Tyrion corked his flask and set it on the table. "Then let's not keep everyone waiting." He sounded as if he had instantly sobered from the wine, but given that he drank only a small portion of what he usually does, it wasn't surprising at all. Jaime only had enough to make the story telling amusing, but not enough for him to be seen as a drunkard in front of the entire world. He grabbed the satchel off the table and pulled it over his shoulder.

Instead of going to the Great Hall, Jaime and Tyrion followed Missandei outside and out of the castle. They and their escort of Dothraki walked into the camp outside Winterfell, passing many log huts until they came to a rather large log house.

Standing guard to a doorless entry way were two giants. Jaime had to take a moment to remember he wasn't drunk enough to be imagining what he saw. One of them looked down at Jaime and snarled at him. He spoke something in a language he had never heard before and proceeded to follow Tyrion inside.

The interior was much bigger than the outside made it look. More than two hundred people were seated in bleachers on one side of the building as if they were to be an audience to their King, Queen, and the Starks who sat in full view of them all on the opposite side with the. Hanging on the wall behind the Targaryens was a large map of the Wall that focused mainly on Castle Black. Lying down in front of Jon and Daenerys was a large white direwolf with red eyes, looking calm and quiet.

Jaime looked around and saw the Lords and Commanders from the Westerlands, all of them staring back at him like people did when he was first named Kingslayer and Oathbreaker. Before Jaime realized it, he was standing before Jon and Daenerys Targaryen. Tyrion and Missandei took their places next to there King and Queen, leaving Jaime alone with two Dothraki guards, one of them wearing his sword belt.

The constant chatter in the building quieted down when two unsullied guards banged their spears on the wooden floor. Jaime felt slightly embarrassed he was the only one who wasn't sitting down with the other lords and commanders.

Missandei stepped forward and projected her voice loud enough for all to hear. "Before is Jon, Aegon the Sixth of his name and Daenerys Stormborm of House Targaryen, rightful heirs to the Iron Throne, rightful King and Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protectors of the Seven Kingdoms, The White Wolf and the Mother of Dragons, Lord of the Dreadfort and Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Winter Dragon and the Unburnt, The Sword of the Evening and the Breaker of Chains. Beside them is those who have hosted you on their lands, Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell, Wardeness of the North, Lady Arya Stark, Lord Brandon Stark the Three Eyed Raven, and Lord Rickon Stark, heir to Winterfell and the North." There was constant chatter echoing her words in other languages, most likely translating for those present from Essos and beyond the Wall that didn't speak the common tongue. She stepped back as Jon Targaryen got up from his seat and stood before everyone.

"We thank you all for coming, including those who would see us dead and us them. But before we begin, we have an important matter that must be taken care of first." He looked right at Jaime and all eyes followed. Jon returned to his seat before going on. "Welcome back to Winterfell, Ser Jaime." Jon said.

"Thank you, your grace."

"The Queen and I were informed that you had an urgent message for us, but we already know about the Wildfire." That wasn't surprising, given that they had the greatest lord of spies at their command and a boy who could see through the eyes of animals. "However, I don't believe the men who believe that you betrayed them know, or the rest of the realms for that matter." Jon gestured his hand, allowing Jaime to have his moment to address the men of the realms.

Jaime turned around and had never felt more nervous in his life. He would much rather stare down the large black dragon again than do this. He cleared his throat before finally speaking loud enough for all to hear. "Many of you know that my sister is in possession of large amounts of Wildfire. While planning for the march North, the other commanders of the Lannister forces and I tried to negotiate with her to bring it with us to use against the dead. Our request was denied for different reasons than we were told." Some of the Lannister commanders began to murmur with each other before Jaime proceeded. "It is true that Cersei is using the Wildfire as a defense against the Targaryen armies and the dragons, but not the way we thought. She's emptied her stores and placed it all underneath King's Landing, ready to set the city in flames before giving up the Iron Throne."

This caused a great commotion among all of the people pf the Westeros, save the Wildlings. A few people were so bold as to rise from their seats.

"Lies!"

"Treachery!"

"She's a Mad Queen!"

Fighting would have broken out if it wasn't for a noise louder than any dragon. One of the giants standing outside stuck his head through the entryway and let out a loud roar, shutting everyone up. He retreated back outside and everyone began to calm down and took their seats.

"My lords and ladies," a voice came from the group of men from the Riverlands belonging to Bronn as he stood up, "As one who tried to steal some of the Wildfire from Cersei, I can support the truth Ser Jaime speaks of."

"Who the hell are you?" Someone shouted out from the Westerlands.

"Bronn of House Blackwater, newly appointed Lord of the Twins. I was a commander for the Lannister forces and spied on Cersei for Tyrion. After the meeting of the Dragonpit, I tried to smuggle out some of the Wildfire from the Alchemist Guild, but it was all gone by the time I got to the vaults. If you don't believe any of this, your welcome to ride back to King's Landing and look underneath the city." The tone and sound of his voice carried absolutely no trace of doubt, and it seemed to be enough to shut up the men of the Westerlands.

"We knew of this treachery long before many of you arrived. We also learned that Jaime Lannister tried to put a sword through Cersei before he fled from King's Landing, trying to end such madness before it could go on." Jon's gaze fell directly onto Jaime. "And we also know that you are one of the reason any of us are here to begin with." Jaime looked puzzled before Jon looked over to Brandon. "It was because of you my brother became crippled. With his condition, your actions gave Peter Baelish a window of opportunity to send an assassin to kill him."

"I can only accept the punishment for my actions and mine alone, not the actions of others."

"I agree, but what punishment do you think you deserve? Death, or maybe your own legs should be broken. Your family always does say that a Lannister always pays his debts." Those words were the force that drove the Lannisters to feared for many years, but they were a double-edged sword.

"I'd prefer to die fighting if I had the choice. Send me to the front lines of the army when the dead come and I'll be gone before the battle even begins. But that's what I think. What does the Targaryen King have in store for me?"

"Nothing, the decision of your fate lies with the one who you harmed." Jaime's gaze shifted to Brandon who kept the same expression he did when Jaime fist entered the room. It was horrifying to stared at like he was, as if he was peering directly into Jaime's soul.

"Would you raise your right hand, Ser Jaime?" Brandon asked. Jaime obliged and showed everyone his hand of gold. "You were one of the greatest swordsmen alive before you lost your hand, now you're a cripple, like me. The debt has been paid."

Jaime became confused as he had never met someone so passive as Brandon Stark. It was as if he was focusing on now rather than dwelling on the past. He was also amazed that None of the Northern Lords were objecting. Most of them probably lost many sons and fathers to Jaime and his father. But they remained quiet and tame. "You heard him," Jon said, "that debt is paid." Jaime didn't know what to feel. He was grateful that he was given mercy but didn't feel he truly deserved it. He could here many murmurs of discontent, but nothing more than that. "However, there is one more debt you owe."

"And what would that be?"

Daenerys Targaryen stood up from her seat and assumed a regal stance. "I do not easily forget those that would try to harm me and my dragons. If it weren't for your friend, my dragon would have turned you to ash at the Blackwater Rush. And I don't easily forgive. So tell me, how do you plan to repay this debt?"

"Your Grace," Tyrion interjected, "Given that my brother failed at his attempt to kill you, the only thing equal in payment would be another failed attempt to kill a Queen, which he has already done." Jaime didn't know if Tyrion was trying to be serious or clever. Whichever it was, it didn't seem to amuse Daenerys, but it did amuse some of the lords watching.

"If I may," Jaime said, "I brought you something I think you will be pleased to have. Whether or not it clears my debt, I do not know." Jaime rested the satchel in his right arm before opening it and pulling out the red and orange stone. When it came into the sight of Jon and Daenerys, their eyes widened and jaws dropped.

"Where did you get that?" Daenerys asked.

"I received it from Harry Strickland before I fled. He told me his men found it deep in the Dragonglass mine on Dragonstone." Jaime took a few steps forward and offered the stone to Daenerys who took it carefully, as if receiving a newborn babe. "If that's not enough, the only other things I have are my swords. They both rightfully belong to you after all." Jon and Daenerys looked puzzled and desirable for an elaboration. "If I may?" Jaime looked over to the Dothraki who had his sword belt and waited for conformation.

"Shafka azhat mae arakh." Daenerys said to the man.

"Ai, khaleesi." The Dothraki undid Jaime's sword belt from his waist and returned it to Jaime.

With some difficulty, Jaime was able to strap his belt back around him before he drew Widow's Wail from it's scabbard and laid it on the ground. "This sword is one of two that was reforged from Ice, the sword of House Stark." Jaime drew his other sword and laid it down next to Widow's Wail. "And this is what is left of the Targaryen sword, Blackfyre. The bottom half was lost after a duel with Arthur Dayne."

"That's happened to the other half." Someone among the lords said.

"I am the Eldest son of Tywin Lannister and the rightful heir to Casterly Rock and the Lannister armies." Jaime turned from Jon and Daenerys and faced the lords of the Westerlands. "Honor and oath swears your allegiance to me. If you choose to still follow Cersei, even after what has been revealed, then you're nothing but Mad Oathbreakers." All of the Westerland lords looked insulted, but also ashamed. Jaime returned to facing the Targaryens. "I offer to pledge the allegiance of House Lannister and any of its loyal forces to you, the rightful King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. All I ask is that you do everything you can to help me make sure that there won't be years of reign from a Mad Queen." Jaime sank to one knee, in front of all the lords of Westeros to bear witness.

Daenerys and Jon both looked impressed at the humility he was expressing, but undecided. Daenerys took her seat, still holding the egg in her hands, before quietly conversing with her husband. After a quick moment, Jon stood up from his seat and walked directly in front of Jaime. He picked up Widow's Wail and held it carefully in both hands by the hilt and the blade.

"You will not be losing your life today, Ser Jaime. Do you pledge to swear fealty to House Targaryen and it's claim as rulers of the Seven Kingdoms?"

It was far better than the alternative. "I do, now and always."

"Rise." Jaime stood up face to face with the young king, not recognizing him as the Bastard of Winterfell he met his first time being in this place, but instead seeing parts of a prince that was long dead that he once called friend. "If you stand beside us on the battle and keep the promise your sister could not, we will deem you worthy to be of what you are by right." He offered Widow's Wail back to Jaime. "This sword is yours now, may it serve you well."

Jaime slowly wrapped his fingers around the golden hilt of the sword and strangely felt a warmth coming from it. For once, he felt like he was doing what he wanted and not what his father wanted for him. "Thank you, my King." From behind, the sounds of men banging on their seets could be heard, meaning that many were both impressed and satisfied.

"Now please, be seated." Jon gestured his arm over to a spot at the front row of the Night's Watch representatives, next to the Lord Commander and Benjen Stark. Jaime sheathed Widow's Wail and took his seat.

"Well done Lannister." Benjen said, patting Jaime on the back.

"Now then," Jon said after picking up Blackfyre, "let's talk of how to defeat the dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired Fiction [**Lyanys**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13405035) by [**WhiteWinds66**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteWinds66)


	62. Jon XIX

Jon

With the "trial" of Jaime Lannister concluded, all that was left for the evening was to plan for the battle at the Wall. Stepping up to the large map, Jon set Blackfyre on his chair before pointing out Castle Black's location.

"The Night King and his army are going to strike here in just over a month's time. They'll bring their entire force and so will we." Everything was riding on the certainty of this. Being a soldier of the dead gave Jon a vision of what was to come. But what if the Night King knew of the plans and changed them? No, Jon knew the Night King would meet his challenge

"We should seal the tunnel!" A Riverland lord shouted out. When once that was the best idea to stop an army marching south on the Wall, now such a plan would be fruitless.

Only a few of them knew that such a tactic would be completely pointless. "It doesn't matter what defenses or fortifications we establish at Castle Black. Most of you may not know, but the Night King rides an undead dragon and has all he needs to bring down the Wall." Many men murmured, sounding distressed at such a revelation. "But that won't happen! Because we're going to bring the Wall down first with our dragons." Everyone seemed stupefied at what Jon just said, like they misheard him, but considering what he just told them, their reaction wasn't surprising. "I know that may sound ridiculous-"

"Ridiculous?" One of the lords of the Reach said. "It's outrageous! Why in seven hells would we bring down the Wall? It's the only thing keeping them from reaching us! If we can just kill their dragon, we won't have to worry about it collapsing at all!"

"And how would we do it?" A lord of the Riverlands objected. "With some scorpions or arrows? I heard about the battle of Blackwater Rush. Cersei's device failed to kill the Queen's dragon and arrows bounced off its scales like they were nothing."

"The Night King only has one dragon, we have four! He won't stand a chance!" This man knew nothing of dragons and there hadn't been a battle of dragons for over a century. Their fire would be useless against one another and the Night King. Only dragonglass and Valyrian steel would be able to defeat him.

"Quiet!" Jon shouted. The two men settled down and waited for Jon to speak. "We can't risk setting all of the dragons to fight the one. If we were to lose one of ours, it would only come back as another empty soldier of the dead. Please, at least hear the entire plan before objecting to it." Jon realized that this would be no discussion like among the brothers of the Watch or his advisors of the North. There were more seasoned and battle tested commanders with him than he is. He turned back to the map and moved his hand over the area of Castle Black. "We'll bring down the Wall, and use what we can to rebuild it, but only smaller. Every man who knows contruction, stone masons, wood workers, will march north as soon as possible. They'll be accompanied by the builders of the Watch and the giants to help with the construction and work to create a barrier arching out to the north side of the Wall that will be crossable to the foot soldiers and draw them to us. On the south side, we'll build a pass that will become narrow and force the dead to only be able to get through in small numbers. We'll post our archers at the ramparts we create on the north side and destroy as many as we can. Once the dead get close enough, the archers fall back behind our infantry on the south side of the Wall who will all be stretching from each side of the pass at the exit way. The rest of the foot soldiers will be behind the spears and shields if the dead break through." So far, everyone was on track and respectful to Jon's wish of waiting. "While the infantry holds their lines, our combined cavalry of the Dothraki and Westeros riders will divide and be stationed on the North side of the Wall, entering through Queensgate and Oakenshield to flank the dead from the east and west." Jon returned facing all of the lords and commanders. "As for the Night King and the dragon, I take my mount and one other to follow and engage them in the air. Queen Daenerys will take the other two and ignite the haunted forest to prevent any of the dead from escaping." And with that, Jon was concluded. Only few who listened did not talk with others about this strategy.

"Your grace," a man from the Vale stood up from his seat, gaining the attention of everyone, "how can you be certain that the Army of the Dead will arrive when you say?"

"Our warg scouts have been keeping watch over it by seeing through the eyes of animals. We'll also be sending one hundred of them with the builders to keep watch over the lands beyond in case there are any changes." Jon realized that this wouldn't be the last of questions. "If anyone else has anything to say, step forward." More than a dozen men got out of their seats and stepped down to the foot of the bleachers, less than expected. "We'll start from the left." Jon looked over to none other than Edric Dayne.

"How wide will the gap we make be?" This wasn't the first time this question crossed Jon. He consulted Sam about this matter and he told him that sheer force of the Wall collapsing would shake the ground for miles.

"I don't know. The force of the collapse could bring the Wall crashing down for miles for all we know. That's why we need every builder we can get to go north. We'll try to control the destruction as much as we can."

The next lord after him was a commander from the Westerlands. "The Lannister forces brought fifteen hundred barrels of pitch, are we not to use them at all?"

"We will. We'll dig three trenches along the areas where the Wall once stood and fill them with pitch. We'll have bridges for the archers to cross over and leave them to burn when we ignite the pitch. Combined with what the North has in its stores, we'll have enough fill all three of the trenches and launch the rest with catapults if we have the time to build them." It would be a miracle if they would be able reconstruct the debris itself in time.

"Your grace," The next man said, again from the Westerlands, "what is your plan for the archers that retreat?"

"We'll have them join the foot soldiers." With all that was planned so far, it was all they could do.

"It would be a waste of firepower if we did that." The man walked up to the map a and traced a line of where one of the narrow passage walls would be. "Instead of having them join the foot soldiers, we build to battlements on each side of the pass. We can post a good amount of our archers there that can destroy some of the dead as they try to get through." He moved his hand to over where the infantry lines would be. "We could build another behind the infantry lines and provide volley attacks against the oncoming horde."

"We should also station men atop the Wall that doesn't collapse." Another man said. "If the Night King will be occupied fighting two dragons, then there should post some men where they cannot be reached. Do we know how many archers we have?"

"The final count was eighteen thousand." A maester informed.

"Then how many are stationed where depends on how big the gap is made."

"We have women and children fighting with us." Lord Glover said. "We should put them on the Wall where they'll be safest."

Jon shook his head. "The top of the Wall isn't the safest place to be. If the Night King is able to get away from me for even a moment, he could attack the Wall to try and create a better opening for his soldiers, free of any resistance. We'll post the women and children on the main wall and have them retreat to the ramparts behind the infantry."

What was hoped to be a quick discussion turned into nearly an hour of debates and strategy. Many nearly fought over who would be where and whose soldiers should be in a more dangerous position. It kept going back and forth and many were becoming angered. Whoever was at the front lines would surely die of course. But if it wasn't for the Grey Worm volunteering the Unsullied to be at the front, no one would have.

But even with the strategies and ideas being given, it all rode on how large the gap in the Wall would be and how many builders were available. Bringing the discussion to a calm and everyone returning to their seats, Jon took control of the counsel. "MY lords, we can't continue further until we build the pass and the barricade. If we're to do this in time, we'll need at least forty thousand men to march in two days."

"Two days?" A lord of the Reach exclaimed. "Most of our troops just finished settling in, now you want them to just undo their work!?"

"We don't have choice. A march to Castle Black would take at least a week, but if the Free Folk lead the company, they can get there in five days."

"You expect us to let Wildlings-"

"I don't give damn about your pride or any fucking conflict you have with the Wildlings! You will follow them because I am commanding you to. If you don't want to obey, then pack up your arms, gather your men, ride south, and cower with Cersei."

' _Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Kill the boy, and let the man be born.'_

Jon was in no mood for the pride of other men. If they were to live, they would all have to fight together, as men of Westeros no matter where they were from. The lord of the Reach shut up looked defeated and disgrace. Jon let himself calm before going on. "We have two days to get prepared, and five days to get to the Wall. If we're going to win this war, we have to take the offensive. There is nothing that can stop the Night King from coming, no defense, no strategy, nothing! That's how he works. He'll corner us at every angle and kill us all. This will be the only way we have to face him head on. And we have to do it together, as army made from every corner of the world we all share. If you can't understand that, then you have no place here, and no place in this army." Jon looked around at the stares the men gave him. They weren't angry or afraid with him. He wasn't sure what this was. Looking through the entrance to the outside, the light of the twilight hour was gone and the darkness of the evening was taking hold. "I'm concluding this meeting. If any of you have any objections, save it tomorrow. We have two days, and no more. Now get out and gather your men."

The noise of the lords and commanders rustling out of the longhouse sounded like a battle of its own. But they obeyed nonetheless. Only a few people remained inside, being Jon, Daenerys, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon, Missandei, Tyrion, Davos, Benjen, Grey Worm, Jorah, Jaime, and Varys.

"That went better than I expected." Tyrion said.

"Aye," Davos replied, "same here. Now we just have to hope that they are desirable enough to throw their pride and grudges away just to live."

"They may yet surprise us." Tyrion insisted. "The hour grows late, I suggest that we should all retire for the evening."

"Well said, Lord Tyrion." Daenerys agreed. "I give you all this time for yourselves, please use it my friends. We won't have it for much longer." Varys left the building with Tyrion, Grey Worm, Missandei, Jaime, and Davos.

"Your grace," Benjen said to Jon, "I'll head North with the builders. I'm the only one who can see Bran and Rickon when they use the sight, so I can form a quick two-way communication line between us. There's not much I can do here anyways."

"As you wish uncle." Jon replied. Benjen bowed his head and left quickly. Jon looked down at his seat and eyed Blackfyre for a moment before picking it up and really looking at it. The Valyrian patterns on the blade were unlike any he'd ever seen. Whereas most were ripples or stars, the metal looked like layers of fire where the pattern showed. As interesting as it would be to wield in battle, he already had a sword. Jon looked over to Arya and held it out to her. "You take it. Needle was meant for stabbing, and techniques like that are pointless against the dead. You can slash deep with this."

Without even questioning Jon, Arya got up from her seat and took it from him. She held it in her hands and gave a few swings to get a feel for it. "Give me two weeks to practice and I'll be ready."

"It's a shame," Rickon said, all eye's turning to him as he rested his hand on the handle of Snow and stroked the pommel with his thumb, "I have a Valyrian sword and I won't be able to use it in the battle."

"I'll teach everything I can, little brother." Jon told him, but Rickon just shook his head at him.

"A month is nothing compared to years of training. Snow should be carried into the fray of battle by a knight, a Northern knight." Rickon began to undo his sword belt and wrapped it around the scabbard. He walked up to Ser Jorah and offered the sword to him. "You should take it."

"My lord," Ser Jorah said, "Snow is yours, the sword of House Stark. A Stark should carry it into battle."

"Your father gave Jon the sword of House Mormont and you let him keep it. A Stark will lead the armies wielding a Mormont sword and a Mormont will fight for him wielding a Stark sword. Take it, but I'll be wanting it back." Rickon pushed the sword closer to Jorah, forcing the Bear Knight to take it from him. "Use it well. Come on Ghost." Rickon patted his leg and Ghost got up from the floor and followed him outside.

Jon walked over to Daenerys and offered his hand to her. Still hold onto the egg, she took his hand and intertwined arms and walked out of the longhouse together, everyone else following after them. As they walked through the camp, Daenerys stopped. "Jon," she said, looking up to him, "I want to see the dragons before we sleep."

"I was about to say the same." They broke off from the others and changed course to the location of the dragons' nesting area. Jon was curious to their reaction when they would see a new dragon egg. They showed certain emotions from time to time, but very few. All Jon had to do was warg into them to feel it. Though he hadn't done that in quite some time, given how busy he was. But a part of him longed to do it. It was how he could speak with his dragons and hear their feelings.

The two of them exited the camp and crossed the road over to the side that the dragon's claimed. The creatures of fire lifted their heads up when they sensed they approach of their mother and father. Ygris was the only one who got up from lying down and approached the two of them. She seemed to pur and growl at the same time when she got close to them. Daenerys let go of Jon's arm so he could pet Ygris overhead. She always wanted his attention more than Rhaegal did and he was Jon's mount. Ygris looked over to Daenerys and saw the egg in her arms. She let out a small growl that caught the attention of the other dragons. They rest of them got up from resting and approached Daenerys to see what she held.

If Jon had to guess, he thought that the dragons were happy to see the egg, but he didn't need to. He warged into the four dragons and heard different thoughts through each of them.

 _'A child, from stone to fire and flesh.'_  Lyarras felt.

 _'Red is power that destroys.'_  Drogon felt.

 _'Fire and blood.'_  Rhaegal felt.

 _'A fourth child.'_  Ygris felt.

Jon warged out of the dragons and received a small headache. Drogon snorted a small puff of smoke from his nostrils and returned to where he was resting, the other dragons following after him. Before Jon could gather his thoughts, Daenerys grabbed onto his hand.

"Jon, do you remember the first person you ever killed?"

Jon was curious as to where this question came from. It was very out of the blue and there wasn't much that could spark the desire to ask such a thing. "I do. I killed a brother of the Watch who was turned into a wight. That's how I earned Longclaw." He remembered how proud he was when Jeor Mormont gave him the sword and when he showed it off to all of his brothers.

"I meant 'living,' Jon."

Jon's pride died when she clarified. He would never forget the first man he ever killed and how ashamed he was when he did it. "It was another brother of the Watch, Qhorin Halfhand."

"Why? Was he a deserter?"

"No, he was a man I greatly admired."

"But why did you kill him?"

Jon didn't want to say, but something in him said that she needed to know. "It was during the Great Ranging beyond the Wall. We were both captured by the Wildlings and taken prisoner. But in order for me to gain their trust, he called me a traitor and made me kill him."

Her grip tightened around his fingers as her gaze fell to the ground. "Was that when you realized it?"

"What?"

"You don't enjoy what you're good at?"

Jon silently nodded. "Yes."

Daenerys turned her head to look at him. "Could you promise me something?"

"Of course, what is it?"

Daenerys was hesitant to tell him and looked sad to do so. "When the battle begins and you see the Night King riding Viserion, please try to end it quickly."

"I was already planning it that way."

"No, I don't mean that, I meant when the time comes to…" She couldn't bring herself to say the last bit, but she didn't need to.

"Viserion died beyond the Wall Daenerys. What he is now is just a puppet, a tool that suffers under control. I won't kill him, I'll set him free from his prison." Jon wrapped his arms around Daenerys and held her tightly, burying her face into his chest.

"When I saw you as one of them, my heart broke a thousand times over. I don't want to see one of my children like that." She looked up to his eyes, on the verge of tears. "What I'm trying to say is… don't make it painful."

Jon leaned his head down and kissed her warmly, reassuring her that everything would be alright. He let them stay this way for a moment, wanting it to become one they would remember. "Come on," he said as he loosened his embrace around her, "let's go home."

She gently smiled him as the walked back to the castle together.


	63. Gryff

Jon Coddington

"Dammit Harry, we can't stay here!" Jon shouted at his captain in the cellars of the Red Keep, surrounded by dozens of dragon skulls. The only light in the darkness came from two torches they had each brought. "If we can't go back to Essos, we should join the fight in the North! No matter who the victor is, we'll lose if we stay here."

"We are providing the North with the dragonglass and we gave them Jaime Lannister and the egg. As long as we remain in the city, the Targaryens won't use their dragons against us. Their love for the people is too great to risk so much innocent death. And even if they do, they'll find the city riddled with a hundreds of scorpions to shoot them out of the sky." Harry was forever adamant on remaining loyal to Cersei. He was not going to let the Golden Company break its largest contract.

But for Jon it wasn't about the gold anymore, or his loyalty to the Targaryens, it was just about surviving. "And what if Cersei decides to blow up the city? Are we to die in it with every other beggar and highborn shit?"

"We're mercenaries, we're paid to fight and die." Nothing was ever simpler than that.

"Agh!" Jon wanted to punch him as hard as he could, or anything for that matter, but he controlled himself to contain his rage. He felt like he was the only one with common sense. It wasn't even just the Wildfire that was going to kill them now, but also starvation, riots, and sickness. The food stores only have two days of food left in them, and once there was no more food the citizens would begin to kill each other for whatever they could get to eat, and once dead bodies begin to pile up in the streets the rooting flesh will give birth to disease and plagues.

"You doubt we can win?" There was no question of doubt, it was an undeniable truth. Aegon the Conqueor had nowhere near the numbers the King and Queen had and won.

"If we continue to just sit here and do nothing, then we won't even be alive when they get here! Once we're out of food, then what? We eat dirt? We all might as well be as Mad as the Queen is!"

"I'm surprised to hear this coming from a man who fought for the Mad King before his exile."

"I fought for Rhaegar, not Aerys. I would never fight for Aerys, and I won't fight for a woman who's feasting on wine while her people hunger."

"My old friend, do you really think the Queen would let us all starve?"

"She's willing to burn us alive, so I yes I do."

"Tell me, where does the most food for the winter come from?"

"The Reach of course." There was also the Riverlands, but they only gave out half of what the Reach was able to.

"And where are the armies to protect their grain now?"

It then hit Jon in a wave. Cersei was going to let the armies go all along. Now that there was no one to protect the food or the people, it wouldn't be hard or take very long. The only lives that would be lost were the innocent ones. "It doesn't matter, even without their dragons and if they lost half of their forces, they'll outnumber us four to one."

"Not for long. The Westerlands won't continue to serve under the Targaryens and Dorne is planning on staying out of the war after the fight with the dead."

"Well wonderful, now it will only be three to one."

"We'll have the elephants. They're just as tall as their giants but far more dangerous. The Dothraki and their horses won't stand a chance against them. And we'll have some reinforcements."

"Reinforcements? What do mean?"

"Do you really think Euron Greyjoy tucked tale and ran away? He's bringing with him a fleet of pirates to destroy the Ironfleet at sea. He only lost to his nephew on land, but he is the storm of the ocean."

"That doesn't change at all that he lost the support of the Ironborn. It will be nine hundred ships against… three hundred, at the most? Euron may be a better captain, but he can't defeat the Ironfleet. If the Targaryens don't use their dragons to attack the city, they'll attack his fleet of pirates and sink them as fast as they did at Pyke."

"Enough," Harry grabbed Jon by his collar and pulled him close, "I would have us all return home if I could. I would kill the Queen myself if she dared to use the Wildfire while we're in its path of death. I would stop at nothing to avenge my men." Harry was an honorable man and never turned on any of his employers, but if Cersei allowed his men to die by her hand, then the contract between them would be broken and he would have nothing stopping him from killing her. "I will not become a turncloak to my contractor. I would let the whole world call me coward if it meant saving you all, but I will not stoop to her level and kill those I have sworn to ally with." Harry let go of Jon's collar and placed his fingers on a pin with three skulls that was over Jon's breast. He felt it lightly before yanking it off and tossing it away. It disappeared into the darkness and the only thing left of it was a small ringing it made when it landed in the dirt somewhere. "If you want to fight with the dragons so much, then so be it. But if I see you in the days after tomorrow, I'll kill you." Harry grabbed onto a torch that was lodged in the ground and left Jon in the cellar of the Red Keep with the dragon skulls.

Jon took a few steps back until was leaning on a large skull behind him. He sank to the ground and sat in the light, surrounded by nothing but shadows and skulls. He turned his head to gaze at the one he sat against, the sheer presence of it reminded him of Rhaegar in battle. He was unstoppable, but a peaceful hearted man, his friend, and a man who died against another's rage. Jon became filled with determination to not disgrace himself to the memory of his friend. He would fight for his son and sister, and he would die for them.

* * *

In the evening alleys of Flea Bottom, Jon had hidden himself and some of the other men where hopefully no little birds would hear their whispers. Those gathered with him were only a few group of five, but all served with him in the Usurper's Rebellion. They carried no torches with them, only the light of the moon and the white of the snows in the city guided their way.

"There's not much we can do," Jon told them, "but we can still do something, if not anything. But the sure thing is, we're going north to fight with the rightful King and Queen." All of the men with him nodded, confirming their loyalty was in the same place.

Will Cole, a man with a ginger beard to match his long hair and one missing eye, sat over a wooden crate while considering their options. "All together, there's about two hundred of us remaining from the Rebellion. It will hardly be anything, but we can slip out of the city unnoticed and head North without anyone looking our way."

Rolly Duckfield, one of the younger of the men present, shook his head to the idea. "I think only Jon and a handful of others should head north. The rest of us should stay here and try to clear out the Wildifre. He's the only one Harry knows to be leaving so we'll be safe from any suspicion."

"In a city such as this," Jon said, "with over a million people, two hundred is too many who don't belong to be spotted by those damn little birds. They'll know something is happening and who knows if there are sentries below the city. We can only leave ten men behind."

"Only ten?" Rolly quietly exclaimed. "It would take years for ten men to get all of the Wildfire out from under the city."

"There's one inevitable thing we may have to accept. No matter what happens, the stores of Wildfire will be ignited." Everyone present in the alley looked grim when they heard the truth of that. "We can't save the whole city, but maybe the bits that matter." Everyone looked up to Jon with small sparks of hope in their eyes. "This city is nothing more than a jewel that crushes the weak that are forced under it. The King and Queen won't care about the jewel more than the people." Jon turned his gaze to Rolly. "You'll remain here with nine others and work as best you can to clear out the areas that belong to the people, not the powerful. Do not grow a single worry for the Red Keep. That place is nothing to them compared to the lives of their people." Rolly nodded at him, knowing his task. "The rest of us will gather the rest of exiles and leave the city, but we won't be going north just yet."

"What do you mean?" Lorimuss Mudd asked. "Where else is there to go?"

"Dorne. We'll steal some of the elephants and bring them with us to battle against the dead."

"Smart move, weaken Cersei by strengthening the Targaryens."

"But I want you and Cole to go with an escort of four others to the North as messengers to the King and Queen, informing them of our allegiance and warning them of Euron Greyjoy."

"It shall be done." Lorimuss nodded with Cole.

"Franklyn, Humphrey, you two will join me south to retrieve the elephants." The two of them nodded at the idea. "We don't have much time. I want us out of the city before dawn, otherwise we'll have to wait for the cover of darkness tomorrow and who knows if we'll last that long after now."

They all dispersed from the alley and into the night of the city, set out to fulfill their duties given by Jon. But they were unaware that no matter where they were, no whisper was safe.

The night blue of the skies was starting to brighten ever so little by the time all were gathered. While the bulk of the men were at the stables preparing the horses, Jon and those he met with along with several other men gathered under the roof. Leaving the city would be easy since The Golden Company was tasked with assisting in hunting for livestock. They all gathered around the light of a lantern and viewed a map of Westeros.

"The elephants are all located at Hellgate Hall. We'll take one hundred of them and head for Starfall. Lorimuss, Cole," The two of them met Jon's gaze, "the Dornish armies were ferried by the Ironborn. When you get to Winterfell, you need to tell them to send ships to Starfall to ferry us to Torrhen's Square. We can't bring them by land with the Reach about to be plundered by the rest of the company." They both nodded to him, understanding their duties. "The rest of us will leave the city in packs of twenty. Ride hard, and stay cautious. The snows are still light so if all goes well, we should get there in about four days' time." Jon rolled up the map and slid it in his belt. "Let's get moving."

The men gathered around all went to gather their squads and prepare them to leave, save Rolly who would see everyone off. Jon stood next to him and watched as men swiftly left out of the city, without a second look from the Gold Cloaks. "If you live through the war," Rolly said, "what do you plan to do?"

Jon had always wondered what he would do when he returned to Westeros. But when he did, everything changed when he learned that Rhaegar had a trueborn son who would rise up to be King. "I think I'll go home first. I miss my family and want to see them again." The last of the men were getting ready and Jon was the one to lead them south. He faced Rolly and gave him a brotherly embrace. "I wish you good fortunes in the wars to come."

"And to you." They let go of each other and Jon mounted his horse. He led his men past the giant doors and they were soon closed behind them. And thus began their journey out of the hell that took a city as its form and to its gates in Dorne.

* * *

The choice of using Hellgate to house the elephants was the only choice the Golden Company had. The castle was long abandoned and empty, streams of water that led to the river were not far from it and plants grew all along the banks to provide feed for the beasts, and it was south enough that on days that it snowed it would all melt before nightfall. The only concern that the men stationed there had was the smell of the Brimstone River that was carried ten miles to the castle. The waters of it stank like bad eggs and would cause the mightiest of men to be trapped on a privy for days if the drank them.

Jon had once heard a story of a merchant that was traveling to the coast on night by following a road on the side of the river. His wagon broke down and some of his goods fell into the water. He lit a torch to look for his things in the river, but a bit of the oil of the torch dripped into the water. When the flame touched the surface, the water exploded and there was nothing left expect for a broken-down wagon filled with charcoal and other minerals of earth.

Hellgate Hall was once a great fortress that was the seat for the Kings of Brimstone, but now it was an eroding mountain of rubble. The castle was carved out of a small mountain that rose from the valley and a tower out of a peak of rock next to it. The bridge that connected the two had collapsed long ago and the contents inside remained untouched. The tower served as a treasury for the castle and rumors about an armored coat of dragon scales was said to be inside, but no one cared enough to try and find out or restore the castle.

Hills of dirt and sand obscured the castle constantly as Jon and his small army grew closer to claiming what support they could for the Targaryens. Jon even planned on recruiting the last of their supporters that were at Hellgate Hall. It wouldn't be much considering only five hundred men were stationed there and only twenty would be likely to join. But every little bit would help.

The pungent odor of the Brimstone slowed the pace of the horses and the men. The smell made one want to breath deeper, as if trying to find any clean air through the stink. And despite absolutely no clouds or snow that day, the temperature was chilly and it was going to get colder as the sun was beginning to rest on the mountains in the horizon. The heat of its light burned cold that day and the sky was a red that some took as an omen of evil. It wasn't an unbelievable thing since Cersei was the one on the Iron Throne.

The Targaryen loyalists halted as they came within a mile of the castle. As they scanned through the camp just outside of the walls, Jon took notice to an importance detail as did everyone else. Franklyn Flowers rode his horse next to Jon's. "Where're the elephants?"

"I don't know." There wasn't a single one in sight. The path of their tracks could be seen around the castle and led behind the mountain of the castle. There were campfires and lights within the castle indicating that the Golden Company was still there. "Take Humphrey and all but ten of the men around the mountain and follow the tracks. If anyone asks what we're doing here, say that we've been sent to inspect the condition of the herd before they travel."

Franklyn nodded and rode over to Humphry, relaying what Jon told him. The two of them resumed the gallop towards the castle with the majority of those that followed, but steered to the tracks.

Jon took his group and went straight for the castle, but he couldn't shake the feeling he had in his heart that something was amiss.

As they got closer to the castle, a small host of men could be seen forming at the camp, most likely to greet them. Jon forgot all about the stank in the air as the rode up to the men and halted.

"Greetings," the man at the head of the group said, "we weren't expecting anyone today." He had a smug look his face that made Jon irritated to see.

"Captain Strickland wants the elephants to be checked. They'll be heading to King's Landing soon, but the Captain wants to see how well they'll fair on the lands with snow."

"Why didn't you send a raven?"

"Surprise inspection. Captain Strickland Strickland wanted to make sure the care of the elephants wasn't being neglected and it seems that he may have been right since there's not a single one in sight."

The man scoffed at Jon. "We haven't neglected anything. The herd is kept on the side of the mountain that gets the most sun. We've already had a dozen of them succumb to sickness."

"Fair enough. Where's Commander Balaq?"

"He's in the castle, we'll take you to him." Jon eyed the man for a moment before nodding to his men. They dismounted their horses and let the other men of the Golden company take the reigns. They followed the leader into the encampment and passed many men who sat outside their tents and around their fires, being merry and playfully fighting one another as if boasting of battles the fought. Jon even saw some men reenacting a merciless kill in a mocking manner.

"You all seem in high spirits tonight." Jon said.

"With the Dornish armies gone, we can finally get out of this egg smelling desert and go back to killing. But we got a taste of that already a couple of days ago with a few fools who thought they stood a chance against us."

"Well no wonder. We haven't had a single battle since we got here. Maybe you should've been the ones to send a raven so we could've joined you." The leader chuckled a bit as they entered into through the gates of Hellgate Hall. Inside, the men weren't as joyful as the men outside. They looked more serious and battle hardened. "What's with them?"

"There's fools were they ones who missed the battle." They were approached a small group of men who were cleaning their battle axes. Jon took notice of a clothe at the side of a man who was sitting down. It was stained red with blood.

 _'If they missed the battle, why would they have blood stained rags?'_ One of the men who was definitely an Essosi stood up and collided with Jon. "Watch it." Jon advised. The man turned to face Jon and looked as if Jon was his mortal enemy. He just scoffed at him and brushed the wrinkles out of his shirt. In that instant, Jon could see a part of a tattoo the man had. Two crossed axes behind the head of a feline of some kind. Before he resumed walking, Jon took another look at the man and remembered that there was another Essosi sellsword company that had a banner like that that. 'Two crossed axes behind the head of a cat. The Company of the Cat.' Jon looked around at all the other men inside the castle and realized some of them wore the armor of the Golden Company, but there was battle damage and it was recent. He halted with his men and crept his hand over the hilt of his sword. "What did you say your name was again?"

The leader of the escort turned and saw what Jon was doing a merely smiled at him. "I never did." He grinned at them before whistling to the area around them. All of the men surrounding the area got up and brandish their weapons.

"Ambush!" Jon drew his scimitar and his men drew their swords with him. The leader of the escort took a few steps back and Essosi axe wielder take his place. He raised his axe and stepped forward to land a swing on Jon. But having faced this kind of opponent before, Jon stepped forward and stooped the swing of the axe before swinging his scimitar up and slashed it into the man's face. Behind him, Jon saved one of his men from another axe and killed the attack by decapitating him. But before Jon could prepare himself for his next opponent, something was knocked hard on the back of his head and the next thing he realized what blacking out.

It didn't take long for him to regain consciousness and wake up. His vision was dazed, but he could tell that he was being dragged along the ground. He was soon dropped and slowly pushed himself up to look around. He was on the other side of the mountain, facing it and the leader of his escort. "I have a message from your captain. two hundred and seventy men is nothing compared to thirty thousand." He waved his hand to what was behind Jon, gesturing him to look.

Jon got to his feet and turned around, all hope leaving him when he saw the bodies of all the loyalists before him, decapitating and bloodied. Beyond the bodies was a whole army of men and horses. He could make out banners with sigils of more than twelve different mercenary companies. The Stormcrows, Windblown, Lang Lances, Iron Shields, almost every company there was in Essos was now in Westeros.

Jon feel to his knees in despair as the leader walked infront of him, inspecting his scimitar. "A golden griffon? I prefer golden women." He tossed it aside and drew an arakh from his side as placed the edge of the blade on Jon's neck. Jon closed his eyes as the leader raised the sword up, preparing to sswing it down.

"Fire and Blood." The last words Jon said before the song of steel cutting through wind met him at his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duhn Duhn DUUUUHN! Leave a review! I know there may be much discontent in regards to content in the books not aligning with some things that will be coming up, but just remember that this is a fanfiction and the show is different from the books. Next chapter will be one that I think will be smashing!


	64. Daenerys XII & Meera I

Daenerys

Despite the danger that was coming for the world, Daenerys didn't let that stop her from enjoying her time in Winterfell and her bath. While Jon was currently organizing a few of the commanders before they would depart and all the kept her from joining him was the lack of clothes that fit. Her belly increased in its swell enough that her current wardrobe was too tight. Sansa was kind enough to begin working on something new for her and resize her other clothes. Missandei ran her hands through Daenerys's platinum hair, always feeling smoother than silk. The length of it was growing at a fine rate that she could soon be able to return to her old style, but she was enjoying what she had done. All four of her rings were resting on a table in front of the pillow that held her crown, but she had recently decided that it was time for one more for breaking the witch's curse.

Daenerys held the red egg in the steaming water up against her belly while Missandei did her work. She wondered what kind of dragon would hatch from inside. Would it be ferocious and powerful like Drogon, or timid and quiet like Lyarras? Whatever kind it would be, it would belong to her child after her sons since they would take Ygris and Lyarras.

She suddenly came to the realization of how casually she was thinking of the future. It made her happy that she did without any worry of anything in the way of it, but also concerned. She couldn't let anything get in her way of attaining that possibility, and she wouldn't. Not Cersei, not the Night King, no one.

Wanting to get out of the thoughts of what will be, Daenerys wanted to focus on the things that currently are. "Missandei, how have you taken your time here in the North?"

"It's an interesting place, your grace. Not as extravagant as the cities in Essos, but more peaceful. I just wish I could see it when there isn't an army outside the walls and everyone isn't working because their lives depend on it."

Daenerys only had a few days to see what that was like when she first arrived in Winterfell. It felt like what the world would be if she could make it that way. "You will see it, I promise you."

"I'm just glad to back with Grey Worm, even as little as the time we have is. He's off drilling with the soldiers using their new spears." The spears they have are be the best in the world against the dead. Dragonglass heads attached to ironwood shafts. The wood was as strong as iron and was perfect for crafting. Only foresters of Ironwrath knew how to lumber the wood.

"I've seen you spend time with one of the Wildli-…Freefolk." Jon had asked her to try and start showing respect to them for who they are instead of what others made them to be. "Care to explain why that is?"

"His name is Cullug. He's a warg and he speaks the language of the giants, or the Old Tongue as it's called. I've asked him to teach it to me. I've only learned a few phrases though. Some of them are not… the best of words to say in conversation. But if I'm to learn, I must know all of what the language is."

Daenerys lifted the egg out of the water and handed it to Missandei. The water evaporated before it could drip to the ground, yet the egg didn't feel hot at all. She placed it on an orange pillow in-between where the crowns were and retrieved a robe for Daenerys. It was all she could wear until Sansa was done.

"Though I must say," Missandei said as Daenerys rose from the water and stepped out of the tub, "watching his eyes turn into that white nothing when he connects with his owl scares me a little."

"I understand what you mean." Daenerys guided her arms into the sleeves of the rode and gently tied it around her. "Whenever I see Jon or Bran in that state, it's like their soul has left them completely and their nothing but a living shell." She placed a hand over her belly, thinking of when her son shared his visions with her. "But powers like that will be essential to winning the wars."

"It seems everything these days are for winning the wars to come. When all is won, what do use them for?"

Daenerys turned to face Missandei, giving her a comforting smile. "We rebuild what was lost in all of our chaos. And then when that's done, we keep on building, for our children, and their children, and for all who will walk the earth when we are far gone from it. After that, we can only leave what we've already given." In the end it was all about legacy. Daenerys couldn't help but wonder what hers would be. A conqueror like Aegon or a savior like she wanted to be.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Missandei walked over to it and checked to see who it was. "Lady Sansa," Missandei opened the door fully and Sansa entered, carrying with her Daenerys's new dress.

"Your grace," Sansa said, "I hope you like what I've made." Sansa laid the dress on the bed so it was in full view of the three of them. It was hooded and the main color was a dark grey with the red Targaryen dragon flying in a dance around the torso. On the left side of it was an outline of a white direwolf, as if it was a ghost. The cuffs, hood, and collar were lined with black fur and the sleeves had a stitching of red in the pattern of dragon scales. And most importantly it would fit Daenerys comfortably for now.

"It's absolutely beautiful." Daenerys commented as she felt the texture of the sleeves. "I can't thank you enough for this."

"The other seamstresses finished the rest of your gowns. You could say that this is a belated wedding gift from me to you, and I've heard whispers from others that it will only be one of many."

"One of many?" Daenerys inquired. Sansa merely smiled at he before leaving the room and Daenerys in wondering of what she was planning. Daenerys turned and looked at Missandei. "Do you know if someone is planning something?"

Missandei just smiled at her. "I know nothing, your grace."

Daenerys rolled her eyes and undid the strap around her robe, preparing to dress into her new gown.

Outside of Winterfell, Jon was waiting nearby the dragons as Daenerys and Missandei, escorted by Ser Jorah, trudged to them in the snow. Jon turned around when she got the attention of the drasgons and he looked amazed at her. He walked up to her and without warning kissed her. "Sorry," he said as he leaned back to look at her, "but too beautiful to resist."

Daenerys slapped him in his shoulder. "No amount of flattery in the world will win me over."

"Then it's a good thing I married you." They too of them shared a laugh together before Jon took Daenerys's hand and walked with her to Drogon.

"Your grace," Jorah said, "are you sure you don't want me to accompany you? There may be those among the builders who are still loyal to Cersei."

"He has a point," Jon said, "we may only be gone for a day, but a lot can happen between now and when we return. There may be those die hardily loyal to Cersei and think of doing something incredibly stupid."

It wasn't false that even though the realms were united, they were still looking at each other as the other's enemy. "If it helps extinguish any danger you feel will befall upon us, then you'll ride with Jon."

"Thank you, your grace." Jorah gave a slight bow to Missandei as the three of them departed from her presence and into that of the dragons. Drogon stirred a little bit before lowering his body as close to the ground as possible. Both Jon and Jorah had to assist her onto his back. By the time she got on top of her dragon, Daenerys felt out of breath.

"Jon, I don't think I'll be fit enough to ride after the war with the dead." Not only would she be unable to fly, but getting onto Drogon itself would be impossible.

"I don't think you will either. We'll talk about what to do when we get to the Wall." Daenerys waited for Jon and Jorah to get onto Rhaegal's back. She decided to let Jon do the honors of taking them to the skies. He wasn't fluent in High Valyrian, but she had taught him enough to command the dragons without warging. "Valahd!" All four of the dragons rustled in their places before Rhaegal shot off the ground first, followed by Drogon but much slower. Ygris and Lyarras followed closely behind as Winterfell and the entire camp below them began to shrink. They all banked around the lands below them before changing their course to the north, to Castle Black.

The ride was six hours until the Wall was barely visiable. The only thing that made it noticeable was the small darkened gathering of builders camped two miles away from it. AS they all got closer, Daenerys became marveled at the great structure. She had seen it in visions before, but seeing it in person gave it an entirely different gravity of presence.

The dragons circled around in the air as the soared above the encampment of fifty thousand men. Jorah was the only one to dismount when they landed and before they were going to do what they came here for, Jon had to have a few words with his uncle. She and Drogon were just close enough to listen in on the quick conversation.

"Anything to report?" Jon asked.

"We've had some of the wargs that came with us scouting a hundred miles north from the air." Benjen told him. "There's no sign of the dead approaching yet. But when they come into sight, we'll blow one blast. When the storm that follows can seen from here, two blasts. And when the leave the edge of the Haunted Forest, three blasts. Bran's been keeping his vision on the army itself and he'll inform us when we're running out of time."

"Are the men ready?"

"As they'll ever be."

"Then let's bring down the Wall." Benjen stepped away from Rhaegal before the dragons took to the skies again. The four of them took a quick lap next to the towering ice before gathering next to one another and hovering in front of the Wall.

Daenerys couldn't help but feel nervous about this. The Wall was the only thing that kept the dead from marching south for thousands of years. Even though it was useless to have now that the Night King had Viserion, there was still a feeling of protection that resonated from the Wall. She shook her head, ridding her mind of doubtful thought and looked over to Jon, nodding at him that she was ready.

Even from where she was, she could see his eyes turn the shade of white like the clouds above and the eyes of the dragons did the same for a brief moment. Drogon's body began to gather heat beneath her and all four of the dragons unleashed their fury upon the Wall.

When the dragonfire impacted with the ice, there was a brief gust that erupted, powerful enough that Daenerys had to tighten her grip on Drogon until it passed. Large pieces of ice began to crumble and fall down to the ground. Some of the pieces fell hard onto Castle Black and began to destroy the structure. Ygris and Lyarras suddenly ceased and parted from Drogon and Rhaegal. They began to resume breathing fire at the Wall, but in blasts as the made passes at the lower parts of it.

The Wall began to deeply crack and sounded like an avalanche as larger pieces of ice broke off. The earth beneath was beginning to quake as if the ground itself was about to crack open and swallow the world whole. It didn't take long for Drogon and Rhaegal's fire to burst through to the other side of the Wall and when it did, the top began to cave in and more of it followed. The two of them changed their positions and targetsto keep the Wall falling into itself, but hopefully not too much. Finally, glaciers of ice crumbled and crashed to the ground, completely destroying Castle Black and exploding into a noise so loud it could be heard around the world.

This was when the dragons all stopped and let the Wall do the work for them. The collapsing region above Castle Black casued a domino effect and continued to bring down everything at both sides. White clouds of frost, snow, and ice formed at the ground where the ice collapsed and shattered.

The collapse finally came to a stop and a gap nearly a mile and a half wide was made. Jon came out of his estranged state and all of the dragons departed from over the wreckage to return to the camp. When they landed, it was clearly visible that the shockwaves were powerful enough to cause a bit of destruction in the camp. Some of the tents where knocked down, many of the men were climbing out of the snow after falling in, and even a few wagons had broken.

After Jon and Daenerys both dismounted, Benjen and Jorah both approached them. "Despite the chaos that just occurred," Benjen said, "that was amazing to witness."

Jorah nodded with him. "Hundreds of years of work, all gone in a few minutes."

"And now, a month's worth of work, all for just one night." Benjen looked out to the wreckage one last time. "I'll see to it that we're ready to begin work within an hour. If you need me, we'll have a few tents down there to oversee the plans if anything changes." Benjen turned his head and looked at an empty space. "What?" Daenerys became confused. Maybe he thought he heard something. "Then you'd better quit wasting your time here and spend it with the girl, nephew. Now go."

"I beg your pardon," Daenerys said, "but who were you talking to?"

"Bran." Benjen stated.

Daenerys sighed and shook her head to the ground. "That's all I need to hear." There were too many things to try and understand all of the powers that were in the presence in the armies. Most of them being from the North.

"We have a tent set up for you in the center of the camp until your leave tomorrow. I can't say you'll enjoy your time hear, but there are worse places to be." Benjen bowed his head to Jon and Daenerys before departing from them.

Daenerys took Jon's arm and walked with him into the encampment, Jorah following closely. "Did you hear what your uncle said, about a girl? Was he talking about your sisters?"

"I don't think so," Jon told her, "he sounded to playful about it and he would've said Sansa or Arya by name."

"Then who was he talking about?"

"I only know of one girl that Bran knows who isn't a Stark."

* * *

Meera

Ever since her arrival, Meera had done nothing but drill with her father and the other crannogmen with their new dragonglass spears. They were much finer quality than the ones the Children of the Forest used in the cave of the Three Eyed Raven. But aside from that, her father also trained her better to use a sword. She had the strength to wield one beyond the Wall, but her skill wasn't as good as she wanted it. The two of them were in the camps at a large practice yard that was basically just an unoccupied area of land. It was so large that there were thousands of others doing their own training as well.

Meera had just failed to parry a strike from her father and he managed to lightly slash over her chest. "Nope," he told her, "you let the strength of the block move into the follow up too quickly. Don't return the attack unless you know you can go on the offensive."

Meera nodded to him as she regained her breathe and took her stance. Her father took the first swings and meera blocked them better then she previously she. This time she did a proper parry and managed to poke her father in the chest with the end of her sparring sword.

"Much better." Meera pulled her sword away and took a moment to catch her breath. But when she let her guards down, Howland surprised her and struck at her body twice before she reacted. "Dead." He told her.

She became frustrated that he did that without warning. But the dead wouldn't be as kind as to let everyone take a break after every kill. "I'm sorry, father."

"You look distracted Meera." Howland began walking with Meera over to a large canopy that stood over an armory of practice weapons, protecting them from the snow.

"I'm just tired. We've been at this for since morning."

The two of them placed their weapons on a sword rack and retrieved their own. "You voice says one thing, but the look in your eyes says another." They left the shade of the canopy and began to make their way to the castle, passing many others making preparations for the march north. "Tell me what's troubling you."

"There's nothing troubling me. I just don't like being here."

"Well that's a first." Howland chuckled as he spoke. "I remember a little girl who once told me that all she ever wanted to do was see the great castle of Winterfell, and she kept saying that right until the day came that she and her brother left the Greywater."

"That was when Jojen was still alive. Before everyone starting dying so a boy could have magic lessons with an old man in a tree."

"Aye, that's precisely what they died for. Jojen knew that, and so did you. But that's not the real reason you're upset, is it?" Howland stopped in his tracks so he could face Meera. "Have you gone to see Bran since we returned?"

Meera had a sudden flashback to when she said goodbye to him and the sad realization she had. "Don't be ridiculous, Bran died in that cave. The person who calls himself the Three Eyed Raven isn't Bran."

Howland sighed at her as they resumed their walk. "Meera, I know little when it comes to the sight. But I do know that Bran is the way he is because of the mistake he made and what he and the one before him had to do to correct such a thing. To have the entirety of time rush through your eyes, it's incomprehensible to imagine. But he'll return to who he was one day. The more time he spends seeing through the weirwoods, the more he pieces himself back together."

Before they entered through the gates, the ground beneath them began to shake so much that Howland lost his footing and slipped into the snow-covered road. The tremors only lasted for a few seconds and ceased completely.

"What was that?" Meera exclaimed as she helped her father up.

"I think that was the Wall." Howland brushed the snow off of his body and adjusted his cloak.

A feeling of familiar fear rushed through Meera's spine. She felt the same as she did in the cave when the warmth disappeared and she saw her breaths turning into the faint clouds of frozen air. That was when all sense of safety left her, and it felt like she was on the border that was just before that dread.

"Come," Howland told her, "I think you should have a talk with someone." As led her through the castle and to the entrance of the Godswood.

"Father I don't want to."

He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders and looked at her dead in the eyes. "He's already changed from when I first saw him. You just have to have two things, patience and faith."

Meera wasn't sure if she would be able to. She was afraid that when she saw him, Bran would be the same person who felt nothing when she left. Her father left her at the entrance to return to the camp's training yard. She looked into the Godswood and could see the white bark and the red leaves of the weirwood. She didn't want to go in, but she also didn't want to leave.

Meera took a deep breath before stepping into the Godswood, feeling the same magical presence that was in the cave of the Three Eyed Raven. As she walked through a few other trees, Bran came into sight. One of his hands was on the face of the weirwood and his eyes were the white of a warg's.

She stood in front of Bran and took a moment to just look at him. She hadn't seen him in months, but he didn't look different at all. His hair was the same, his face, his size. It gave her comfort to know that at least some things about him didn't change.

Bran's eyes returned to the natural color and he looked up to her. Neither of them said anything to the each other for a moment before Bran actually grew a small smile to Meera. "Hello Meera."

"Hello Bran." She didn't notice anything different about his personality yet, but she would listen to her father and try patience, but not yet faith. "Were you watching the Wall?"

"I was. The dragons brought it down with hardly any effort at all. But the gap they made is a bit bigger than we hoped for."

"We felt it crash all the way from here."

"All of Westeros will. It will be the sign that the end is drawing closer to everyone. But we'll be there to stop it."

"You think we can?"

"I know it. We have the numbers, the weapons, and a reason to keep living."

Meera had a spark of hope flash within her when she heard the way he talked. It wasn't so monotone or lack of emotion as it was before, but only by a little. "So what's your reason to keep living?"

"I'm the Three Eyed Raven, my reason is unknown even to me. My purpose for know is to combat against the power of the Night King. But after that, I don't know."

Meera understood what her father meant by Bran's change now. He beginning to feel like a human rather than whatever it was that woke up from hours of using the sight when they escaped the wights from the cave. But for her, it wasn't enough yet. "I need to get back to practice, Bran."

"If it wouldn't trouble you, could you send for Rickon to come and get me?" Meera nodded at him before turning to walk away. "I'm sorry." He said.

Meera turned her head, confused. "At what?"

"That I can't be who you want you want me to be right now."

Meera smiled at him sympathetically. "I have faith you will be one day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I had to estimate, I think only four chapters left until we get to the big calm before the war. But it's only an estimate. Now then, thanks for reading and if Reviews were money, then I am Jerry Mcguire. SHOW ME THE MONEY!!!!!!


	65. Edric I & Sansa VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies. Before we begin I want to announce that for those of you who don't know. I have posted a sneak peek to the fic I will be doing after this one I will be calling: The Ghost. simple scene we've seen before, but someone else is in another's place. Now enjoy the chapter! I think only four more until the long wait for the BIG one.

Edric

 

In the years past, Edric had seen only one other winter, and it was like a beautiful spring in Dorne. Never before has he ever seen so much snow or a storm such as what was happening. The winds were king and light, but the snow was thick and heavy. It began late in the night and more than two feet had fallen by the afternoon of the day that followed. The only ones who didn’t mind it were the Northerners and the dragons since their bodies were like furnaces.

When Edric awoke that morning, he was chilled to the bone in his tent and would’ve frozen had it not been for the heavy cloak Lady Sansa had made for him, though he whenever he wore it, it felt like he had his two-year-old son Gerold on his shoulders. To make things worse to start his day, someone had mistaken the entrance of his tent for a wall and there was a large pile of shoveled snow leaking inside.

Things began to calm down as the day pressed on, but almost everyone had a shovel or something they could use to clear out the fallen snow. No one had any idea what to do with it when the piles began to turn into mountains. But then the Wildlings solved that issue by instructing everyone to use the snow to pack a layer of it outside of the wooden huts. Such a technique actually kept heat inside the structure and all of the horses needed all they could get since many were on the verge of sickness.

Many of the children got carried away and made snow castles to battle in a mighty of war of snowball fights. Everyone let them be since the sight of it was actually uplifting to the men to see that even though they would all be marching to war very soon, some could still find joy in their moments before then.

Edric had just escaped from a snowball massacre he got caught in the middle of, but one of his men was not so lucky. However, it did provide Edric with the opening to escape the company on his men and gain some privacy in a sense. All around him people were working, but no one was bothering him which is what he wanted, as selfish as it seemed.

Edric got out of the camp and into Winterfell to see if things were any better in terms of the bustling of people. But they were just as bad in the castle as they were in the camps. Everywhere was loud and there was hardly any room to relax. But through everything, Edric saw there was one place where no one entered or left which meant that it was empty and free of commotion. Edric made his way through the castle grounds and into a passage that led below ground. The light of outside vanished quickly as he went deeper and was replace by the light of candles. Edric found himself in a long hallway that extended far out into the darkness with no sign of it ending.

He walked slowly down the hallway, taking note to his surroundings and realizing he was in th fabled Crypts of Winterfell. As he passed many of the statues, he took a long look at each and every one of them. The further he went down the hallway, the larger a cold feeling in his heart formed. Something about this place made him feel that the statues were looking back at him, as if the ones they represented were judging him from the grave.

He stopped when he come upon a statue of the only woman he had seen so far. Her hand reached out and in it was a wilting winter rose. He then realized that this was Lyanna Stark, or rather Lyanna Targaryen. Being in the presence of her began to terrify him so much he wanted to leave, but he felt a desire to look deeper inside the crypt.

Leaving the statue of Lyanna, Edric walked past the statues of Rickard and Brandon Stark before finding himself looking at the statue of Eddard Stark. He was holding his family’s greatsword, Ice, or at least a simple steel copy of it. The lifeless eyes of stone had a hypnotic effect when Edric looked deep into them. He felt that if he looked long enough, maybe Ned Stark would look back.

“Lord Dayne.” A woman’s voice said.

Edric’s body jumped when he became startled and looked for who the voice belonged to.

“Lady Stark.” Edric regained his posture and collected himself.

“Forgive me for startling you. I saw you come down here and was curious as to why.”

Edric had a feeling of guilt rush over him when he realized he probably shouldn’t be down here at all. It was no wonder that he felt the eyes of the dead judging his presence. Such a place was sacred to those who are of the House Stark. “I should be the one apologizing, my lady. I’m probably not welcome in a place such as this. But it was the only place that was quiet.”

Sansa smiled at him, amused and sympathetic. “The tombs of my kin aren’t just for those who share blood. Many come down here to pay their respects. You have nothing to be worry over.” Ever since he had first arrived in Winterfell, Sansa has always had a noble stature but never shied away from showing kindness to those who were kind to her.

“I must disagree with you. Ever since I first came down here, I’ve had this strange feeling.”

“Like the statues are watching?” Edric nodded to her, feeling relieved that he wasn’t the first to think that. “My father once told me that when we are down here, the great Kings of Winter kept watch over us all, to keep us safe from the evils outside of the crypt.”

Knowing that changed Edric’s outlook on the mysterious presence he felt, so much that he didn’t feel like an outsider in a sacred area any longer. “I’ve heard some stories of the crypt myself. My father once told me that a dragon lives somewhere down here, in a part that has been closed off for hundreds, if not, thousands of years.”

Sansa giggled a little at such a bizarre story. “I don’t know of any dragon lurking in the depths, but not far from here the tunnels come to a collapse. No one’s bothered to have it uncovered ever since it happened. Is your father the one who made you so fascinated with the Starks?”

“Yes, it was. Truth be told, there was a time when I actually hated your family, or rather your father. But that was in my coming of age years when everything became emotional.”

“I know what you mean.” Sansa agreed. “What changed your mind?”

Edric looked back at the statue of Eddard Stark, taking one last look at what form his memory took. “I met your father in King’s Landing.”

“You did?”

“Well, when I say I ‘met’ him, I mean I only saw him.”

“How did seeing him change your mind?”

Edric didn’t immediately answer at first. He didn’t mind telling Sansa the tale of what happened, but he knew he would feel sad when he would finish. “Growing up in Starfall, my family suffered a bit of a small humiliation from the other lords. At feasts I would always overhear someone mocking my uncle Arthur for being defeated by a savage from the north. I began to grow a hatred for a man I never met or even knew what he looked like. But the hate was all the same. When I was eleven, I began to squire for Beric Dondarrion after my mother passed away. For three years he taught me how to be a knight and how to be a lord. Then we heard of King Robert’s injury and attended court to serve as we could. I finally was ready to see the man who the other lords boated about, I was finally going to see what kind of man was able to beat my uncle, the greatest of all the Sword of the Mornings. But then all the despise and anger I had so blindly built had vanished when I saw him, sitting on the Iron Throne in the stead of the King. In his eyes I could see a veil of determination he put over himself. But inside I could see he was sad. Not of court, or ruling, I didn’t know what. I still don’t. But I saw the kind of man who deserved to be on the throne. I man who didn’t take joy in it, but responsibility.”

Sansa had become fully intrigued at the tale he told, and knew a little of it herself. “Was that the day my father sent Lord Dondarrion to hunt the Mountain?”

“Yes, it was. But before we left the city, a raven came from my father in Starfall. He said I was to return and meet my bethrothed. He wanted me to prepare to inherit the title of Lord of Starfall. But it wasn’t what I wanted. I replied to him telling that I was going to join Beric and a hundred men to find and kill Gregor Clegane before I returned. But the gods were cruel to us when he found us first, with a battalion of three hundred men. Only forty of us escaped, and that was when Beric died the first time. After he was resurrected, he formed the Brotherhood. In the beginning Beric told me I should go home, not get involved and be safe from the war. He told me he promised my father that he’d return me home safely, and he couldn’t that if he was going to fight. But I refused. I wanted to fight with Beric and the others. To be hero to the smallfolk and repay the Lannister tenfold of the atrocities they committed. As we gathered more members, found ourselves in the company of three runaways from Harrenhal. Two boys and girl.”

“Arya and Gendry.” Edric grinned and nodded at her. “She told me all about her time with the Brotherhood and how they sold Gendry to a Red Woman of the Red God.”

“I wasn’t with them when it happened, I was at a tavern with some of the other men. The same tavern I met my wife, Neela.”

“What was she doing there?”

“Working. She was a commoner when I first met her. And as embarrassing as it is to say, but I was at the age where all I cared about was fighting and girls. I found myself returning to her company many times. But then Beric ordered me to go home. He didn’t say why, only that I had no place in the brotherhood any longer. I didn’t want to leave, but then he begged me to. Before I left for home, I asked Neela to marry me and she said yes. I knew that if I asked my father, he would say no since I was a highborn and bethrotheed to some girl I never met, but I didn’t want to leave her, I couldn’t. We wed before we sailed back to Starfall, and in that time my daughter Ashara was on her way to joining us. When the ship docked and the people of Starfall came to greet us, I was ready to hear my father lose his head when he saw me and Neela together. But then I realized why Beric sent me back.” Edric felt grief wrapping around his heart as he drew closer to his failure. “I learned that my father died while I was gone. He heard that Beric and his company were slain by the Mountain and thought I perished with them. He was driven mad with grief and then one day he didn’t wake up from his sleep.” Edric failed to contain a tear that fell from his eyes as his throat began to swell. “While I was playing a hero in the war, my father mourned for me day after day. Because of my foolishness, he suffered. Because of me, he died.”

Edric’s eyes fell to the ground, weighed by shame of his complete recklessness and old ambitions.

“You’re not the only person to have ever chosen desire over duty.”

“Probably, but I’m the only who’s father was killed because I did.”

“No, you’re not.”

Edric looked up at her, wondering what she meant and knew.

“My father tried to flee King’s Landing with Arya and myself, but I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to marry Joffrey and be Queen. So I told Cersei of what my father was planning and believed her when she promised he wouldn’t be harmed. What happened after, the whole world knows.”

Edric couldn’t hold back a smirk when he realized the irony of their fates. “And here we both are. The question is, did we change enough for our fathers to be proud of who we are now?” Edric knew he was a far better than who he once was, but not enough. “I rule Starfall justly and always listen to counsel when given, but I don’t feel it’s enough to be what my father wanted.”

“I think it is. You’ve learned from your failure and are doing your duty to your family. You may not have done what your father wanted, but you took charge of your own destiny. I think that’s something any father would be proud of.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I would be if my children did.” Sansa gave him a little smile, enough to lift his spirits.

But before they could continue their time together, a new person appeared from the shadows, being Varys the Spider. “Pardon me, my lord and lady, but there seems to be a few men from King’s Landing at the gates. Members of the Golden Company.”

“What?” Sansa said. “What would they be doing here?”

“Let’s go find out.” Edric advised. The three of them left the company of the fallen Starks and the darkness of the crypt.

 

Sansa

 

Out in the courtyard were six men clad in golden tinted armor and navy-blue cloaks. They were surrounded by many Northmen with hands gripping the hilts to their swords still in scabbards. Jaime Lannister was among them, but turned his attention to Sansa when she approached.

“My lady,” he said, “some of these men helped me escape King’s Landing. But they will only speak to you or the King and Queen.”

“Jon and Daenerys are resting right now. I’ll deal with them.” Sansa

“My name is Will Cole, we come on behalf of Jon Coddington and a handful of others to pledge ourselves to the rightful King and Queen of Westeros.”

 

“Yes, my lady. He fought for Rhaegar in Robert’s Rebellion and so did we, and we refuse to fight for another mad ruler.” She wasn’t sure whether or not to believe them. She knew that there were some loyalists from the rebellion who were exiled, but it could all be just a ploy by Cersei. But luckily for her and everyone else, there was someone who could answer that question.

Sansa turned to one of the guardsmen who stood near her. “Could you bring my brother Bran to me?”

“At once, my lady.” The guard left swiftly while everyone stood in the falling snow, waiting.

“How many others are there?” Sansa inquired.

“We left ten men in King’s Landing to clear out some of the Wildfire. They won’t get much, but they’ll get what they can. Then there’s about one hundred and ninety led by Jon. They went to Dorne in hopes to steal some of the elephants we have. He may even come back with more loyal to the Targaryens.”

“How many more?” Until she knew whether or not this was a lie or the truth, she had to poke at every detail this man could provide. If she dug enough out of him, he might slip on his words and expose him hiding his true intentions.

“I’m not sure, my lady. There’s about five hundred stationed with the elephants so it might only be a handful or less.”

Before she could continue, the guard returned, wheeling Bran in his chair next to Sansa. “Bran, these men say they’re here to fight for us. Are they telling the truth?”

Bran didn’t answer, he only gazed at the men of the Golden Company, looking worried. “Oh no.”

“What is it?” Sansa asked.

“I’ve focusing so much on the North, I forgot to keep watch on the south. They’re telling the truth, but Jon Coddington and his men won’t be joining them. They’re all dead.”

“What?” Will asked, the rest of the men looking concerned and confused. “What are talking about?”

“Cersei learned of your plans before you left King’s Landing. Jon and his men were ambushed at Hellgate Hall by thirty thousand sellswords from Essos.”

“That’s not possible,” Varys declared, “my little birds would have sent word to me if such a thing happened.”

“Your little birds are dead. Euron saw to that before he ferried fourteen different companies to Westeros.” Varys looked grim and defeated. Never once had one of his spies been killed.

“Then Rolly and the others, their gone.” Will and one of the other men looked grimmer than the other four.

“Rolly Duckfield is alive, and so are his men.” The six sellswords all looked hopeful for a moment, but not much. “They’ve been discovered, but not reported to Cersei. They’re sneaking Wildfire out from beneath the city as we speak.”

“How-” Before Will could ask, Sansa intruded his question.

“The less you know, the better it will be.”

Will nodded his head, but remained confused.

“What about the thirty thousand in Dorne?” Edric asked. “Are they going to attack the people?” He sounded more worried than anyone else and he had the right to be. The armies of Dorne were gone and there was no one to protect the castle. But if Cersei ordered it, she would be breaking the truce that was struck and every realm of Westeros would rise against her, including the Westerlands.

“They’re waiting to hear if we win or lose against the dead. If we lose, they’ll flee back to Essos. But I don’t know what they’re planning to do if we win.”

“What about Cersei, what did she tell them?”

“Nothing. I think she knows that we can watch her.”

“But Rolly and the others,” Will interrupted, “if they’ve been discovered then why haven’t they been turned in?”

“Don’t worry, they’ll remain unnoticed.” Bran assured him.

“But how are they still alive? If someone knows what they’re doing, then how hasn’t the Queen’s Hand learned of it yet?”

“The answer to that is on its way.” Bran didn’t say anything else after that. He remained silent and left everyone curious and confused. But the men from the Golden Company were more worried and saddened to learn of their leader’s death.

“Thankyou, Bran.” Sansa told him before facing the exiles. “If my brother says you are friends to us, then I welcome you into our armies. I will have someone take care you and find a place for you to stay.”

“Thankyou, Lady Stark.” The six men gave courteous bows before Sansa left their presence. Jaime Lannister and Varys followed her into the castle, desiring to discuss the matter further, while Edric took it upon himself to take care of the men.

“My lady,” Varys said, “if the group of men in King’s Landing have been discovered to be sneaking out the Wildfire, it won’t be long until Qyburn learns of it and reports to Cersei.”

“What are you suggesting we do?” Sansa asked, continuing through the hallways to her chambers. “from what we know, no one except for the Golden Company is aloud to enter or leave the city. And we can’t provide any help until the dead are dealt with.”

“Not to mention,” Jaime said, “that if we try to and Cersei learns about it, she might just ignite the Wildfire and destroy the city. If she can’t rule then no one can. But she has to be planning something. If the war against the dead is won, then it will be obvious to the world who the better rulers are. She has to know this if she’s going to continue to fight.”

“She must be hoping our loses are too many.” Sansa stated.

“We could have less than ten thousand survivors and one dragon and we could still win against her.” Aegon had less than three thousand men when he began his conquest, but he also had more than just one dragon.

“But if we lose all of the dragons, then we’re lost.” Sansa reminded.

“That’s why only two will be facing the Night King and Viserion.” Varys said.

Sansa didn’t like that reasoning at much at it was strategically necessary for them all. Jon was the one who would have to deal with the Night King, and he accepted that he and the dragons with him might perish. That was the real reason he was having Daenerys only be support. He wanted her and their sons far away from the worst part of the battle.

“Whatever she’s planning, we need to start a counter strategy.” Sansa told them as they arrived at her door. “Ser Jaime, could see to this with the other leaders of the realms?”

“As you wish, my lady.” Jaime bowed his head before taking his leave.

“Lord Varys, I’m sorry about what happened to your little birds.”

“You had no part in it, my lady, therefore there is nothing you must apologize for. But thankyou for your sympathies nonetheless.”

“We need to assume that more of your spies will be unable to listen to whispers of others. Find Lord Reed and gather some of his wargs. We can use them to keep watch on the south if anything changes.”

“At once, my lady.”

Varys departed and Sansa entered her room. Finally in the privacy of her chambers, she could gather her thoughts and think of what else had to be done now that there would be more opposition from the south.

She took a seat in her chair at her desk and relaxed for a moment, letting her thoughts drift to something positive. But she kept finding them to linger around Edric Dayne. She shook her head to rid herself of these feelings. “For goodness sake,” she said to herself, “he’s married and he has children.” But thinking of him gave her hope that maybe there were more men like him. People of Valor that she once dreamed of before she realized the truth of how ugly the world was. But people like him seemed to make it look better than it was, something she was glad she could feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember what I said at the end of last chapter? SHOW ME THE MONEY!


	66. Tyrion VII & Arya V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late release! New Job, new hours. Enjoy!

Tyrion

The day of the march to the Wall was approaching rapidly, far faster than anyone was hoping it would. The armies were going to set out from Winterfell and arrive three days before the dead were believed to, and that was a fortnight away. But no matter how much everyone worked, no matter how much the persevered through the cold and snows that winter had, everything did not feel enough.

The shipments of raw iron for weapons and armor had stopped arriving, not because of depletion, but there was no more time to make any more runs from Winterfell to the suppliers. The armorers and smiths had made enough boiled leather and chainmail that their fingerprints were worn away. But the constant efforts and labor among them built their muscle, ready to switch from swing hammers to swinging axes and swords.

But one smith in particular kept to wielding his hammer. Gendry had attempted to learn swordplay, but he said it didn't feel natural to him and using a hammer was better. He even went as far as to forge a new Warhammer that had spikes of dragonglass to impale the dead deep enough for the effect to work on them.

The Dothraki traditionally never wore steel armor, or any for that matter, but they took to using chainmail shirts under their furs and few of them still wore the Lannister armor looted from the Blackwater Rush. The Wildlings on the other hand had no rejection when it came to such matters. All of them, the women and the children of the North who were fighting alongside the men were outfitted with Northern boiled armor and looked like they were all soldiers of House Stark. It would have been hard to tell the Wildlings apart if not for them all wearing heavy fur coats over their armor.

The only armor Tyrion ever wore was the set made for him for the battle against Stannis Baratheon's forces, but a smith from the vale was kind enough to make him a small steel breastplate and bracers. He wouldn't be in much need of such protection since he wouldn't be in the heart of the battle. He would be wielding a crossbow alongside the other archers since every arrow was almost as tall as he was.

But that was the last thing on his mind he was concerned about since a raven with a scroll marked with the symbol of the Hand arrived just moments ago. He was in the company of Varys on the balconies of the castle surrounding the training yard. They were waiting for Sansa and Daenerys to join them and passed the time by watching Jon spar against Bronn and the Hound. Surprisingly to all who watched, Jon was holding his own against the brute strength of Sandor Clegane and the dirty tactics of Bronn.

They had been going at it for near two hours now and the only one not exhausted was Jon himself. "Come one," he said, "once more."

"In a moment," Bronn told him as he had his hands on his knees, wheezing for breath, "where in fuck's sake do get so much energy?"

Sandor held his greatsword in both hands, preparing to go again. "Maybe if you'd stop fucking that Dornish girl you'd have some left to fight."

Bronn laughed at loud, but he was the only one amused. There had been a great many complaints that he and Tyene were sometimes too loud at night, but also some whispers that in the camp that it was pleasing since the Wintertown brothel was frequently busy and only had several whores. "Did you know that no man has ever fucked a Dornish woman? Thar's because they're the ones who do all of the fucking. And unlike you, you big celibate giant, I've been behind on some important work and just tryin to catch up."

Things would've turned into a brawl had Brienne of Tarth not shown up to join them against Jon on his request. "Forgive me for being tardy, your Grace." She undid her sword belt and placed it on a rack, swapping Oathkeeper for a sparring sword.

"Bout time you showed up." Bronn told her. "The King doesn't know when to take a break."

"If only you knew how to as well." Sandor angrily replied.

All of them readied themselves to fight against Jon and all of the onlookers had a wave of excitement to see what would occur.

"I'm surprised Edric Dayne isn't down there with them." Tyrion commented. "He's so eager to become the greatest. I feel he wants to be the rival of our King."

"He's in a meeting with the other Dornish Lords and Commanders." Varys informed, hands folded into his robes as always. "I've no little birds in the camps to hear the whispers they say, but the men they command are talking of rumors to leave and reclaim their home."

Tyrion grew concerned and shifted his gaze from the match to Varys. "Are you certain?"

"While it is only rumors for now, it could well turn into truth and then action. But I believe Lord Dayne won't let that happen when the dead are so close to us."

Tyrion thought that it might not be the only reason they wouldn't return home. Ever since Robert's Rebellion came to an end, Dorne has remained neutral from any conflicts that arose in the Seven Kingdoms except for their own. The Dornish people hated it, but their prince commanded it. If they ran from one war to fight their own, they would be considered fools and cowards by all of the world. Men who only fight the war around them when they feel like it.

"He won't,'" Tyrion said, sounding adamant, "he knows that the dead have to be dealt with first and so does every other person in this army."

The sound of clashing steel turned their attention back to the match and Jon was facing off Brienne and Sandor while Bronn was on the ground, clutching at his stomach.

"Have you read the scroll yet?" Tyrion asked.

"It's sealed for the King and Queen." Varys told him, but Tyrion knew the Spider better than that.

"What does it say?"

Varys sighed in disappointment. "Hardly any good."

The sound of footsteps approaching drew their attention to Lady Sansa and Queen Daenerys, finally joining them. "Apologies for being late." Sansa told them. While Jon had to be preparing for the war, Sansa would be the one to help him with things that didn't regard the battle.

"There is no need," Tyrion said, "but now that you're here, we can see what Cersei has to say to us."

Varys unfolded his hands and revealed the scroll. He broke the seal and unraveled the parchment, reading it aloud. "As long as I am the only one who can keep any secret, the traitors trying to save the city from a fiery death shall remain unnoticed. I am not turning my allegiance from the rightful Queen, but I do not want to die before my work is completed, and such rash actions pose a threat. I wish you good fortune in the battle against the dead. Signed by the Hand of the Queen, Qyburn." Varys let the scroll roll back into itself before handing it to Daenerys.

With the knowledge that the scroll contained, there would be one less thing to worry about. Without the abilities of Brandon Stark such a thing would've been thought to have been a bluff or ruse. But now it looked like there was a thread of hope for the city, even if it could be cut at any point.

"Who is this Qyburn?" Sansa asked.

The only one who had any decent knowledge of him was Tyrion. "He was once a maester, but he was expelled when he was caught doing experiments that were very unethical to the Order's reputation. But that doesn't deny that he is one of the best healers in Westeros."

"You call what he did to the Mountain heeling?" Sansa doubtfully asked.

"I didn't say that his work was absolutely medical, only unethical. He does what Samwell Tarly did for Ser Jorah."

"He cures Greyscale?" Daenerys asked.

"No, he does what the maesters are too afraid to try to do. I'm not defending his reasons of course, but his research saved my brother's entire forearm after his hand was severed, not that it mattered in a sense."

The conversation was interrupted by a loud thud and everyone turned their gaze to the sparring match and saw Jon on his back with Sandor Clegane standing over him with his greatsword over Jon's chest. Brienne stood across from the Hound, her sword lying next to Bronn who was just now getting up.

"Bout time someone knocked you on your royal ass." Bronn commented as Jon got onto his feet, disregarding any respect he should be showing. Brienne took notice of that when she retrieved her sparring sword.

"Do you have no respect for anyone?" She asked, anger present in her tone.

"Only a few in this world, the rest are all dead."

"But none for your King?"

"When I pledged myself to the Targaryens, it was to the Queen up there." He pointed his sword up to the balcony. He then switched to pointing it at Jon. "Until I see him give me a reason to call him King, he's just a lad with too many titles."

"That never stopped you from calling the Lannister bastards King." Sandor reminded.

"Aye, because the Lannisters were feared when Tywin was alive. And with eyes and ears everywhere, no one could even talk shit about them without worrying about having their head on spike."

"That is true," Jon informed, "and I am not one who would do something like that just for someone speaking ill of me. But if I must take action to discipline he who acts to free regard with thought to those among him. Bronn raised his brow, wondering what could be in store for such a person.

"And if I chose not to, what then? Will my head be taken from my shoulders? Cersei did say that was the only way to kill a Stark these days.

Everyone could see Jon's fists clench and his knuckles whiten when Bronn was bold enough to say such a thing. "That would happen if you continued defiance. But ever since I realized my Targaryen heritage, I've thought that maybe I should feed traitors and scum to the dragons."

"Good thing it doesn't look like it's about to happen right now." Bronn patted Jon and his shoulder and began to walk away.

Jon took a deep breath before giving his response. "Then why don't we fix that? Brienne, Sandor, if wouldn't mind bringing him with me."

Before Bronn realized what was happening, Sandor and Brienne seized Bronn by his arms and dragged him against his will as they followed Jon outside of the training yard.

"What does he think he's doing?" Tyrion openly asked.

"Disciplining those that disrespect a dragon." Daenerys informed, not showing any resistance to hiding a smirk.

"So he's going to kill the Lord of the Twins?"

"I don't mind. He has been a pain in the ass since he arrived." Daenerys began to follow her husband's trail to wherever it was he was going, those with her kept close.

"Bronn has helped us in more ways than one," Tyrion said, "he's one of the best fighters we have and a good commander."

"And why should I allow such people to hold lands and armies when they have no respect for those they pledge to fight for? Why should I let another Walder Frey hold the Twins?"

"Despite how well you rule and change the world, there always be men like Walder Frey. But Bronn is far from him."

"Not far enough it seems."

They all followed Jon outside of Winterfell and towards where the dragons nested. When they left the gates, they gathered a small following of soldiers, curious as to what was happening.

As they neared the presence of the dragons, Drogon and Rhaegal lifted their heads up to see what was approaching them. Drogon's gaze fell on Bronn and he began to stir.

"Oh… fuck." Bronn said as Jon stopped and he was pulled next to him.

"Let him go." Jon ordered. Sandor and Brienne kindly obeyed and Bronn was frozen in his place. "Walk forward, Ser Bronn."

"I'd rather hang myself than get close to that big fucker." Jon shoved Bronn forward, causing him to fall on his knees a few feet away.

Tyrion quickly walked up to, hoping that he would listen to reason. "Your grace, I'm begging you to reconsider what you're about do. We need every man who can fight and Bronn happens to be one of the better ones."

Jon looked down to Tyrion, revealing a sly smile before looking at the dragons. His eyes flashed white and so did the eyes of Drogon and Rhaegal. Bronn was shaking in his place as the crawled closer to him.

"You're grace," Bronn called out, "please, show mercy!"

Never before had Tyrion seen Bronn so afraid. And there was no reason for him not to be when he shot down one of them. The two dragons opened their mouths slightly, looking preapered to unleash a fury of fire on Bronn. Everyone held their breaths as they arched their necks back and opened their mouths wide. But instead of fire, they let out loud roars, their heads only feet away from Bronn. The force they let out made Bronn fall backwards. His eyes were clenched shut and his arms in front of his face.

When the roaring stopped, the dragons backed away from Bronn and Jon's eyes returned to their normal brown. He stepped forward and knelt down to Bronn who was still shaking where he laid in the snow. "I don't give a rat's ass about what people say about me, I was raised a bastard after all. But I do care when others insult my family and those who follow me. I didn't ask to be King until the Queen asked me to be hers. I don't give aa damn about crowns or titles, but I care for those who put their faith in me and I will serve them as best I can when we fight against the dead and until the day I die. But if you have none in me, why should I care about you?" Jon patted Bronn on his shoulder before leaving him in the snow.

Tyrion was speechless as Jon walked passed him and joined Daenerys and the others back to the castle, but overjoyed that he didn't roast Bronn.

Bronn was still shaking a little when Tyrion walked up to him. "Are you alright?"

"Some shit has come out." Bronn admitted.

"I could tell." Tyrion said amusingly as the scent began to fill the air. "Better your shit than you turning into dragonshit."

Bronn nodded slightly. "Aye, much better."

* * *

Arya

The sounds of the Great Hall were never lacking any merriment in the nights of winter as long as there were Northerners and ale in it. The only one who wasn't in such a high mood was he who suffered an encounter with the dragons, even after downing three mugs of the North's strongest brew and a new pair of breeches. Not even Tyene could charm any seduction to bring him out of his state of mental petrification. But then Tormund solved the dilemma with a mug of Free Folk ale. Whatever was in it, it was strong enough to make Bronn spray the first sip over four people and cause an uproar of laughter from some of the Wildlings. She was intrigued to try some herself at first, but then she remembered Jon and Daenerys's wedding feast and her hangover. She kept to light drinking and her portions of bread and rabbit stew.

Meals were the only time Arya could let herself relax nad not worry about preparing for war. While her family ate at the High Table, she decided to join the masses with Gendry and Sandor sitting with her seeing as they were better company.

"I didn't think your brother could be so terrifying." Gendry said before taking a large bite of stew dipped bread.

"He isn't," Arya said, "the dragons are."

"You obviously haven't fought him yet." Sandor told her, eating chicken stew instead of rabbit.

"You were there at the Dragonpit when I dueled him." Arya reminded.

"I was, but after practicing with him today, what he did back then wasn't a fight."

"Then what was it?"

Sandor started chuckling to himself before he answered. "Pity."

"I saw the fight too y'know." Gendry told them. "That was definitely not pity."

"Have you fought anyone at all with that hammer of yours?" Sandor asked. "And I mean a real fight."

"I've killed two Goldcloaks when I left King's Landing. Caught them completely off guard."

"Off guard? So their swords weren't drawn and they didn't know what was coming?"

"Um, yeah."

"Then whoop de fucking doo. I real fight is when you another man in front you trying to end your life, without a fucking care who you are and what you've done. That's war and that's where we're headed. Are you sure you want to do battle with the men instead of the women and children?"

Gendry slammed his fists on the table and stood up, staring the Hound down with a great anger. "Fuck you, you limping dog. I could best you in any duel now that you're not even half of what you once were."

Sandor stared him down before slowly standing up, rising much higher than Gendry. "Do you want to learn how to fight? To really fight instead of being a smith?"

Gendry didn't break his gaze from Sandor's. "I want to learn how to win."

"Then stop swingin your hammer in a forge and start swingin it at me. Tomorrow with Tarth and her squire. Now sit down, and shut your hole."

Gendry looked on the verge of breaking his rage over such a matter, confirming he truly was a Baratheon. But whether or not he acted on it would define if he was the Baratheon's before him or the Baratheon he wanted to be. He slowly relaxed his fists and sat back down in his seat, Sandor following after him.

Arya scoffed as she rolled her eyes and ate her food. She did as Gendry was doing and dipped her bread into her soup before eating. The taste was delicious and reminded her of the last meal she had from Hotpie at the Crossroads, but his food was better. "I wish Hotpie was here."

"Me too," Gendry agreed as he calmed down and resumed eating, "no one could cook like him."

"Who's got hot pies?" Tormund asked as he shoved someone aside to take a seat next to Sandor. "I've only had one pie before and it was the greatest thing I ever ate."

Arya failed to suppress some laughter as did Gendry. "We're talking about our friend. His name is Hotpie."

Tormund looked disappointed in a way that one does when they drop delicious food on the ground. "Oh… little Stark, you cannot get my hopes up with talk of pies then smash them by telling me you're talking about people." Tormund take a quick swig of the concoction that no one south of the Wall could stomach. "Who is this man of pies?"

"He was with us when we escaped a castle in the Riverlands." Gendry informed.

"The fat one from the Crossroads?" Sandor asked.

"Yeah, best cook you'll ever meet."

"I saw him before I came North." Arya informed. "Brienne even told me that he made some Direwolf bread for me. He told her it turned out much better than the first one."

"He bakes bread out of Direwolves?" Tormund asked.

"No," Arya corrected, "it was in the shape of a direwolf."

"If you could call that shape a direwolf."

Arya smacked Gendry over the shoulder. "It was his first try and it tasted excellent."

Gendry nearly choked on his food laughing with Arya. "Do you think he's still there at the inn?"

"I know he is."

"Maybe I'll invite him to come to Storm's End with me." Gendry suggested before finishing his bowl.

"Don't you dare," Arya said, "I was going ask him to come to Winterfell."

"If you came with us to the Stormlands then we wouldn't have to have such an argument."

"If Hotpie came with me then you would have to come to the North."

Tormund raised his brow as they conversation pressed on. "Are you two fucking?"

Arya's gaze quickly shot to Tormund to see if he was drunk or honestly asking. Unfortunately, it was both. "No!" Arya exclaimed.

"Why not?"

"Because we're not like that!"

"Oh, I get it." Tormund said. "You don't know how."

"We know how." Gendry told him.

"Then why? You both are acting like Jon and Ygritte before they broke his vows." Arya had no idea who Ygritte was, but her name was close to Ygris. She realized that the woman Tormund spoke of was who Jon named the dragon after. "Who's Ygritte?"

"She was a Free Folk and a ginger, like me but her hair was as orange as the eyes of the white dragon, and she was the one who taught Jon how to be free and how to see someone before you love them like you never have before." That was all it took for Arya to confirm the origin of Ygris' name.

"What happened to her?" Gendry asked.

Sandor stole Tormund's mug from him and downed its contents, not enjoying his presence in such a discussion. Tormund let him be as he leaned closer to Arya and Gendry. "After we made Jon one of us, we all scaled the Wall together, took us hours. But when we got to the top," he began chuckling to himself, "let's just say that if they were the only ones there the two of them would have been breaking his vows for days."

Arya shuddered at the thought of that lingering in her mind. "But you were there so what happened?"

"It was Ygritte's first time seeing your country, the first time seeing a land that wasn't covered in snow. It was like watching the two of them fall in love all over again. But then we got to the other side and Jon had to reveal he was still a crow. She had the chance to kill him before he made it back to the Wall, but she let him go. Then at Castle Black, she had him right in front of her. But she couldn't do it, that's when the child crow that stabbed Jon shot an arrow through her. She died in his arms that night and was burned by the weirwood a mile north of the Wall."

Arya felt sad knowing Jon went through such a thing. "He got the chance to love someone as a man of the Watch, but his love for her died when she did."

"No," Tormund said, "the ones we love never die, not all the way. They take new forms, like Ygris. Why do you think he named her that?"

Arya felt comforted with that kind of knowledge. It made her wonder if the same love she had for her father would take a new form one day. "Thank you for telling me about her." Arya set her mug on her plate and left it there for a servant to collect it later. She got out of her seat and began to leave the Great Hall.

Gendry was going to join her, but Tormund stopped him. "woah now boy. You're not going anywhere until you learn a valuable lesson about women. Now then, when you're in bed with one, most men fuck like dogs."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I continue to do chapters that are two people's pov's, then it will just be three more before the long wait. On the third I will leave a schedule of what I will be working on during that time to keep you guys up to speed. Don't forget to leave a reveiw if you have any advice on writing the war! Now SHOW ME THE MONEY!


	67. Jon XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, sorry for the wait. This was a hard chapter to write and writeen three times before it made sense. After this, One more chapter before the BIG wait and then, war.

Jon

The days passed quickly and before anyone knew it, the armies of the world had begun the great march to the Wall, and perhaps even to their deaths. Instead of riding the dragons straight to the Wall, Jon and Daenerys chose to go on horseback with the armies. Even if they wanted to ride the dragons they wouldn't be able to. For a few days before everyone left Winterfell, the dragons had been a bit more aggressive and territorial to everyone including Jon and Daenerys. Jon at one point tried to warg into them all to keep control, but their instincts overpowered him greatly. For some reason they were all in a very protective state, especially towards Ygris. She was in pain when Jon tried to control the dragons and couldn't understand why.

Not wanting to let the red dragon egg be so close to a battle, Daenerys left it in Winterfell under the care of those too old and too young to join the march. Such a thing was too precious to her to let near an evil so great. Her doing that reminded Jon of why he sent Ygris and Lyarras away from the Night's Watch when he hatched them almost two years ago.

The march itself wasn't any obstacle for anyone. They days and nights were kind without the presence of snowfall and with the Free Folk at the head of the march, leading all to their destination, the time they were making was perfect. They were followed by the Unsullied and behind them rode Jon and Daenerys with the forces of the North. The Dothraki rode at the back, taking advantage of the snow being packed down hard into a good path for their horses.

Evening began to creep over the Westeros by the time the armies crossed over the Last River. There was a small settling of trees not too far away that would provide enough wood for fires to keep the warmth that was disappearing the further North they all traveled.

As they host of soldiers ceased and the tents were raised, the stars began to appear as the light of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. With no moon out that night, there were more stars than possibly imaginable. The cold of the snow gave the light riddled darkness a strange presence, one that was mystifying and marveling.

With the fatigue of travel and spell of weariness befalling everyone, there was no time left in the day for a command meeting with a few of lords. So without any argument all who could went straight to sleep. But in the day that came, so did a small storm. It was no blizzard, but it was enough to prevent a continued journey North for at least another day.

The delay was not the only problem however. To keep the horses warm, the Dothraki and other soldiers surrendered their tents to their mounts to keep them warm, but those that did succumbed to sickness. There wasn't enough maesters to tend to all, but some of the Free Folk had knowledge of medicinal treatments for the cold that were unheard of but very effective. One of which was a drink stronger than any ale, it would heat up the body to combat against the cold.

Daenerys was taken away to a private council with Tyrion, Jorah, and Varys so Jon desired to be in the company of his family. But unfortunately for him, they were all occupied elsewhere, be it practicing fighting or something else. Instead he chose to oversee if everything was ready to resume for the march first thing the next day. He had Sam and Ser Davos join him on a walk through the camp while. They had no specific destination, but Jon wanted to look around to see the mood of the army. Ghost joined them as well, keeping close to Jon vigilantly.

The three of them walked passed many wagons and carts covers with large fabrics to protect their cargo from the snow. "Has there been word from the Wall yet on the construction?" Jon asked.

"We received a raven this morning," Sam informed, "the weather up there is worse than it's been with us. We'll only have one trench dug and the battlements for the archers posted outside the pass being made will only range half the length of it."

"It'll be the best we get," Ser Davos said, "we already have the upper hand with our strategy. We just need to hope that the White Walkers accept the challenge and face us head on."

"Don't worry," Jon said as the passed a large wagon that contained ten ironwood helmets made for the giants, "they will. Was there anything else in the raven Sam?"

"Yes," Sam replied in a sullen tone, "there was an accident and several of the builders died."

"What happened?"

"Some ice on the west side of the Wall broke from the top and fell near the inside of the passage. It crushed the men and there's hardly anything left to burn."

Jon felt upset that such a thing happened, but there wasn't anything he could do and nothing he can do about it now.

"We could hold a service of gratitude for them a day before we prepare for battle." Ser Davos suggested.

"Aye, we'll do that." Jon agreed. "They died working to help protect the world, they deserve a burial of some kind at least. Is there anything else the scroll said?"

"No," Sam said, "just those."

Not much relief was felt with only a short message. Construction was behind and they living was already suffering losses before the battle even arrived. But they couldn't dwell on such things and had to accept what was available to them. "What about inventory? We have the dragonglass, but there are over a hundred Valyrian weapons in Westeros. Do we know how many are going to be used on the battlefield?"

"The maesters and I did a count and we have forty-seven Valyrian Steel swords, twelve axes, several daggers, two spears, and three of the Dothraki arakhs. Ser Jaime advised that the best fighters should be armed with the weapons when the strength and speed of the White Walkers was explained. I even entrusted my family's sword to the Hound."

"Clegane?" Davos inquired. "I'd call you a fool to think he would return such a weapon if he was the same as he was before he left King's Landing."

"It'll be in much better hands than mine. I'll remain with the archers since I can't swing a sword very well. And most of the one's who brought their ancestral weapons are too old themselves to fight with them."

"Let's just hope none go missing before the battle." Davos said. "A coward would only need one blade to run away and trade it for more gold than most Houses have."

To be honest, Jon wouldn't blame any who would run away from the dead. That's most that any could usually do when in the presence of such evil. "Aye," Jon said, "let's hope that it doesn't. But if any try and get caught, I'll take their heads myself for desertion." The three men and Direwolf came to a clearing where a few campfires were made and soldiers gathered around. Some of them singing songs or just talking. Anything to brighten the mood. Jon turned to face Sam and Ser Davos. "Sam, that's all I'll need from you today. Go be with Gilly and enjoy your time together."

"Glady Jon." Sam pleasantly left to go find Gilly who was among those treating the sick. While she joined the armies to serve as a healer and a cook for the armies, Little Sam had to be left in Winterfell under the care of some of the old folk who aged too much to join the fight.

"Ser Davos," Jon said, "I free you from the demand of my company if you desire to be elsewhere."

"Actually, my desire right now is to discuss something I haven't the chance to yet since I've been busy working with Gendry and the other Stormlords."

"Of course. What troubles you?" Ser Davos took the lead of the walk and Jon followed next to him.

"I heard about the situation you had with Ser Bronn regarding him disrespecting you."

"It wasn't me, it was my family. My brother and father died by traitor's hands and I won't let others mock or joke about such things. I won't take heads, but I won't stand for it to go without consequence."

"That's perfectly fair, as is your right. However, I was actually referring to his blatant disrespect regarding you as King."

"He hasn't had a problem with it ever since." Bronn had returned to his usual attitude days after his punishment, but he did show more courtesy to Jon and others.

"He hasn't but you do. I heard that you told him you don't give a damn about the crown or the throne. You're only accepting one and pursuing the other because you need to."

"Aye, I couldn't care less about being the King of Westeros, so why is that a problem?"

"May I speak freely, your grace?"

"I welcome it."

"If you have no desire, then why should we follow you? You have the claim and you're a far better choice than Cersei, but without a desire to be what we need, what's the point in swearing our fealty to you?"

He made a good point. Up until being crowned King at his wedding feast, Jon only did what he thought was right because that was all the reason he needed. His people respected him for that and were loyal because of it. "It doesn't matter right now. Fighting the dead does."

"Aye, they do. But how are we going to face them? Will Jon Snow lead us into battle, or Jon Targaryen, the King of Westeros?"

"I used to have the desire to be a leader. I felt pride when I was elected the Lord Commander of the Watch and even enjoyed the power I held for the time. But the pride and desire disappeared when I died."

"You got to experience betrayal on the side of the betrayed," Ser Davos reminded, "a thing that many men suffer in their lives, but only a few are able to strive through it. I thought you did at first when you came back and took Winterfell from the Boltons. But then you remained as you are now. A Brooding man acting like the world in on his shoulders and his alone. It doesn't have to be. You can let others help you carry such a burden."

"I know I can, I just… I can't help but be careful to not be reveling in my position."

"It's not that you're trying to be careful, it's that you're afraid to embrace what you are. You're afraid that people still see you as Jon Snow instead of Jon Targaryen."

In all truth, Ser Davos wasn't wrong. Even after all of the things Jon has had to do and the things he has done for everyone, there were those like Bronn who saw him a bastard still. "I've tried what I could. I've fought for the people time and time again, and I've died for them."

"I hate to say it, but having the will to die for your people isn't good enough. Maybe you should try living for your people and give them something to die for. I know it may sound selfish, but it might just make people actually want to fight for you aside from with you. If the only reason you're King is because you need to be without any desire, then it doesn't show that you care much."

The weight of Ser Davos' words carried a weight that Jon was familiar with as a man of the Watch. The memories of those who gave him guidance rang in Jon's mind.

 _'Do you want to lead these men?'_  Jeor Mormont asked, demanding to let Jon express his desire.

 _'You'll find little joy in your command, but with luck you'll find the strength to do what needs to be done.'_  Aemon Targaryen said, counseling Jon that some of the hard choices are the ones we must learn to take.

"You're one of the most honorable men alive," Ser Davos told Jon, "but it's time you stop being a man, and be a King."

"I don't know how to do that." Jon admitted. He could rule and commands, give counsel to the best of his abilities and fight for his people, but he didn't know how to be a real King.

"Then it's a good thing you're married to someone who does. Maybe you should try asking her." Davos took his leave and left Jon alone with Ghost.

Jon looked down to ghost and saw curious eyes looking back at him. "What do you think boy?" Jon asked his direwolf while brushing his hand over Ghost's head.

Ghost took a few paces forward and stopped, looking back at Jon, waiting for him to follow. Jon decided to see where it was his direwolf wanted him to be so he followed behind at a brisk pace. Many who were in Ghosts' path of direction quickly got out of his way, looking terrified and cautious of what would happen if they didn't. When Jon would walk by the men, they would all give quick bows with their heads and break from their spell of fear.

It didn't take long for Jon to find himself led to the entrance of Tyrion's tent. Two Unsullied stood guard at the entrance and didn't even flinch when Ghost strut right inside paying them no heed. When Ghost's body entered halfway, Jon heard Tyrion yelp, presumably being surprised by Ghost's sudden entrance. Ghost backed out of the tent and sat next to Jon as sounds of laughter were heard.

It wasn't a moment later that Daenerys and Tyrion walked out of the tent to see Jon and Ghost waiting patiently. "Your grace," Tyrion said, "I must admit that I would appreciate it if your greetings weren't as surprising as this one."

"I won't make any promises."

Tyrion sighed, disappointed that he might be subject to the mercy of a direwolf. "I see, is there something you need?"

"I was hoping the queen would be available by now."

"We're not entirely finished with our discussion, but I suppose we could use a break." He turned to face Daenerys. "We'll resume in the evening."

"Thank you, Lord Tyrion." Daenerys said before Tyrion reentered his tent. "Is everything alright?" Daenerys asked as she took Jon's arm and they walked away from Tyrion's tent.

"What were you talking about?"

"It began as planning for the future of the country if we win the wars to come."

"Anything worth mentioning?"

"Since we're having to boys, he brought up the conflict about succession to the throne. He even dared to throw in the idea of the possibility that our sons would fight each other for the throne and go to war for it."

"He should be glad I wasn't there. I think I would've punched him."

"Well I did slap him when he said that. I refuse to believe in that horse shit about the gods flip a coin when Targaryens are born. But he did redeem himself with another idea."

"As expected of him to be clever."

"He thought about dividing Westeros in half at the Neck. With the Walker dead, there will be more land to explore and things to discover. The two kingdoms would be of an equal size to each other and the North would get the independence it's always wanted."

"It's an idea, but with the majority of the lands beyond the Wall being nothing but winter, there wouldn't be a proper equity between the kingdoms."

"Then I'll make sure you join us this evening. But enough of that, what was it you wanted to speak to me about?"

"I had a talk with Davos just now."

"About what?"

Jon didn't answer at first, he didn't know where to begin. "Is it odd to ask why you want to be Queen?"

"Not at all. But why are you asking?"

"I suppose it's because I'm trying to find a reason to want to be King."

Daenerys looked at him questionably. Not from suspicion, but concern. "I want to take back what is ours by right, back form the usurpers who have sat on it since the Mad King and let the country fall apart. I became sick of everyone around me trying to make me their pawn to get the throne for themselves. I vowed to claim it, for my right was the only right. I was planning to bring our legacy to those who wronged me when I sailed back here. Fire and Blood. But then I met you. You reminded me why that I came here to be different than the ones who stole the throne from the Targaryens. And you gave me something to hope for the future. I want to and will be Queen so that I can give a better world to our children and for everyone who had to suffer in the mess that was made."

Jon thought over here words. What began as a quest for vengeance turned into a quest for salvation for Daenerys. But compared to him, she spent far longer seeking after these types of things for those who followed her. Jon only sought after survival for his men and people. Even that didn't give him desire to be King in the North. "I can't say I don't want a better future for our children, Dany. But after the wars are fought and if we win, what do I do then?"

"You'll be the King of Westeros, you can do as you please. I cannot tell you what you want to be as a King, only you can."

Jon tried to think if there actually was anything he wanted. "I once told you that people follow you because they believe you make the impossible happen. I want to do that too, but-"

"But what? We are the last chance our family has to transform into one of the greatest Houses in the world once again. What is it that you believe is stopping you?"

"I can't when people look at me like I'm still a bastard."

"If you truly believe that you can't make the impossible happen like that, then I married a fool. It wasn't Aegon the Sixth of name who saved the Wildlings from the White Walkers and let them south, it wasn't him who defeated the Boltons and restored order to the North, and it wasn't him who won my heart over, it was Jon Snow. If you could do those things as a bastard, imagine what you can do as a King."

_'Kill the boy, Jon Snow, and let the Man be born. Kill the man, and let the King rise up.'_

Jon let her words sink in as he took a chance to think of what he could do as a true king. He wasn't one to think highly of himself, but he indulged himself this once and thought of the impossible things Aerys Targaryen said he would do before going mad. Maybe Jon could actually do that.

Jon halted their walk as the came to the edge of the camp. About a mile away was the river and foliage that grew on the banks of it. "Thank you, Dany."

"I'll always be here for you when you need me." The two of them looked out to the view just as the snow stopped falling. "It's a beautiful sight."

Jon looked down to Daenerys and saw her in a beautiful bliss. "Yes, it is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My biggest concern is if the dialogue sounds believable. Show me the MONEY!


	68. The Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is many Pov's, and there will be many more in the next chapter.  
> Don't forget that this is the last chance to give any input for the War. But don't forget the rules. See chapter IMPORTANT NOTICE

Jaime

The parade of soldiers, horses, and wagons marched smoothly through the freshly fallen snows of the storm that passed in the warmth of a winter morning. Despite the delay the army suffered, they could not make up for the loss of time in any way according to the Wildings.

Jaime kept to the middle of the army and surrounded himself with those he knew wouldn't stab him in the back given the chance. He may have surrendered himself to the Targaryens and received forgiveness in a sense, but not all were blessed with such a nature as they. He rode on his horse next to Bronn and Tyrion's. Behind them was Brienne and her squire Podrick Payne.

"Have you ever been to the Wall, Bronn?" Tyrion asked.

"Once, when I was a young lad." Bronn told him.

"What brought you there?" Podrick asked from behind.

"I got caught up in a brawl and got sentenced to serve the Black."

"Why am I not surprised you escaped your penalty?" Jaime asked rhetorically.

"It's not an escape if no one chases you." Bronn informed. "Lord Commander Qorgyle was nice and lazy during his command. Lost nearly three hundred men during his time and even more if you include the men sentenced to yet take the Black, myself included."

"Men like him were the reason the Watch declined over the years." Tyrion commented.

"It wasn't just the lazy ones who lost men," Bronn reminded, "Jeor Mormont was one of the better ones and he lost three hundred on his great range."

"At least they died fighting what they were meant to in the first place." Brienne said.

"Aye, they did. But they died none the less. And I heard it wasn't a fight, even calling it a slaughter would be merciful."

Jaime knew nothing of the encounter the Night's Watch faced at the Fist of the First Men, only that four men who went on the Great Range made it back south of the Wall. "Let's hope we're granted more mercy to at least have a battle then."

As those words left his mouth, they all came to the top of a hill and looked upon the Wall, Jaime being the only one among them to not have seen it before. The size of it stretching from each end of the horizon gave it a majesty of power unlike anything Jaime had seen before. But there wasn't as much as there could have been now that a giant gap was in it. There were many specs of men and giants with their mammoths all along the newly build parts.

"Such a shame," Tyrion said, "I was looking forward to having a brew of the Night's Watch ale in their common room."

"They still make it, my lord." Podrick informed. "I've had few in Wintertown with some of the brothers."

"It's not quite the same Podrick, but good enough."

The army marched away from the Wall and towards the camp that was four miles south of it. As they got closer, the many factions of the army broke off to join each of their own. Despite his feeling to stay away from the men of the Westerlands, he had no choice but to oversee their arrival and settling as their commander and lord.

It wasn't until late afternoon that Jaime had the time to meet with the other commanders of the Westerlands. They all gathered around a map of the Wall on a table inside Jaime's command tent, listening to Jaime's instructions that he received.

"The gap at the pass is long enough to have a thousand men stand together in one line. The Unsullied will be at the front with three rows of their army. The Reach, the Stormlands, and the Westerlands will combine to make the next ten and the rest of the Unsullied with be behind us. Behind them will be the North"

"Sixteen rows of shields and spears," one of the commanders said, "I can't imagine anything breaking through that."

"They Night King has three times as many giants and mammoths as we do and he has a dragon." Jaime informed. "Our archers will be stationed on the Eastern top of the Wall alongside the Riverlands. We'll need them to ride to Oakenshield with the Dothraki and the Knights of the Vale at nightfall. Make sure each man takes two days' worth of provisions with them. The rest of our men will join the foot soldiers, ready to face anything that slips past our defenses. We only have a few hours, so get to work and make sure that every sword belt has a dragonglass weapon of any kind strapped to it." All of the commanders bowed their heads and exited the tent, leaving Jaime to himself.

Jaime took another look at the map, trying to spy anything that could possibly help in the near time before the battle. The suspense of the wait was torturing him inside. The army was just over a day's journey away, yet it felt like it would be much longer than that.

A sudden breeze of cold air rushed behind him signaling that someone had entered. He turned his head to the entry of the tent and saw Brienne standing there. "Lady Brienne."

"Ser Jaime, or is it Lord Jaime now?" She asked.

"Until I return to Casterly Rock, I will remain a Ser." He didn't want to admit it, but he wanted to keep his title of Ser as long as he could before he would change from being a knight to a lord. Knights protected the innocent and defended the weak while lords drank wine and did stupid things for stupid reasons. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"No, but I was on my way to enjoy a last drink with friends. I thought you would like to join us."

Jaime looked back at the map, pondering over the idea. Perhaps taking a rest would be a good way to calm down and think straight. "Alright, I accept your offer."

The two of them walked past the many tents to a clearing were many had set up tables and ale kegs around many pit fires. They weren't the only ones who had the idea to have a last drink. The King and Queen themselves ordered all to take an afternoon's rest and enjoy the company of friends and family. Jaime didn't blame them, most men who where drinking and laughing would soon be dead or raising a mug to mourn the fallen. Near the heart of everything, Jaime saw a table with four others standing around it. Chairs were in short supply and were all sent to the medical faction of the camp for the wounded that might be present after the battle.

Around the table stood Bronn, Podrick, Tyrion, and Tormund Giantsbane of all people. Tyrion was given a small box to raise his height enough that he could reach down to the table rather that over it. "Ah, big brother, so good for you to join us." Tyrion slid a full mug of ale to him as he and Brienne both arrived.

"You hear anyone plot to kill ya yet?" Bronn asked.

"No, should I be?"

"Ah, dammit," Bronn tossed a small pouch filled with money of some small amount to Tyrion who looked smug, "you just cost me five gold dragons."

"You have dragons of gold?" Tormund asked with his brow raised.

"It's an amount of money." Brienne informed.

"You southerners and your money. Steel and food is the only thing the Free Folk use to trade."

"But you're in the south now," Bronn reminded, "so you might want to get some yourself if you want to get anywhere but here."

Tyrion picked up his mug and raised it above the center of the table. "Here's to either a merry end, or a new beginning."

"I'll drink to that." Bronn said as he and everyone else picked up their mugs and gently clashed them together before each taking a big swig.

They were interrupted by a women's yelp and they all looked over to see a Wildling man carrying a Wildling woman over his shoulders and running through the crowds while the only ones cheering for them were other Wildlings.

"What are they doing?" Podrick asked.

"Ha ha! He's stealing himself a spearwife." Tormund bellowed cheerfully.

"What?" Podrick looked more confused than he was.

"In the True North, if a man wants a wife, he has to steal her. If can do it without being caught or the woman resisting him enough, then she is his. Most of the time it's willingly. It looks like those two are going to have one last night together before we all march are arses off to die. Speaking of wives, where is yours?" Tormund asked looking at Bronn.

"Tyene? She took a backhand to the face when she tried to steal the Stark girl's Valyrian dagger. But then the girl gave it to her anyway."

"I'm not surprised," Jaime said, "Arya has the mood of a preying wolf and most of those that came with Valyrian weapons are giving them to the best of the fighters here."

"Do any of you know if she's getting comfortable with the stag smith?" Tormund asked before taking another drink.

"Gendry?" Podrick asked. "I heard that they were friends but I didn't think that much."

"They're practically lovers without the love part or the fucking." Bronn said, tilting his head to the side with his brow raised. "But I bet if we win, they'll finally cut the horseshit and just get it over with. Nothing like a good fight to get one in the mood for a good fucking."

"You got that right," Tormund said before subtly looking at Brienne while wearing a grin. Jaime quickly looked over to Brienne who immediately started to gulp down her ale, looking embarrassed. "I promise you, the moment the battle is over, they'll be in each other's arms like they've just met after years of being apart."

"I doubt that." Tyrion said. "When they first saw each other at Winterfell, she kept hitting him like any would to a brother."

As far as Jaime knew, that was how many began before taking a journey to something far more physical.

* * *

Arya

As the evening of the day drew near, the last of the construction on the barricade and pass were completed. Many of the soldiers and the Dothraki were readying their horses and themselves to ride out for Oakenshield and Queensgate.

The dragons had arrived after the army as expected and took to nesting far from the camp, mostly to be far from unwanted company.

While the most of the Starks prepared for war in their own way, Rickon was inside Gendry's tent who personally saw to his armor while Arya stood by.

"Hold still," Gendry said to Rickon as he strapped on a small direwolf gorget around Rickon's neck.

"I'm trying!" Having never worn armor before, Rickon did not like the time it took for everything to be put on or the weight of it. For him, the armor felt like three wet cloaks and the steel pieces on his arms were like prisons. The gorget pinched the collar of his shirt to his neck and the small couters around his elbows restricted his movements. "How can men fight in this?"

"I can promise you it will be a lot easier when you grow up to be one." Gendry finished strapping the gorget around Rickon's neck and spun the boy around to inspect the fit. "Can you breathe alright?"

"Aye." Rickon replied.

"Then my work is done." Gendry stepped back so he could view Rickon in his full attire. "You look like the youngest knight I've ever seen. All you need is a helm to cover your face and everyone will think you're just a tall dwarf knight."

"Can I take this off now?" Rickon pleaded.

"Not yet, walk around in it for at least an hour to really get used to how it moves. Make sure you run and jump around in it and practice some fighting."

Rickon sighed as he swung his arms from side to side, loosening as much of the fit as he could.

Gendry wiped his hands clean on a rag before turning to his own suit of armor he made for himself that was resting on an armor stand. He had a steel breastplate, pauldrons, greaves, and a great helm with two stag antlers nested on each side of the helm's crown. The antlers were provided by none other than Rickon himself. Salvaged from the mutilated stag he shot with Johnna and Ralf.

"If anything doesn't feel right, come see me and I'll do what I can." Gendry told him as he picked up a steel vambrace and began to adjust the straps.

"Whatever you say, Lord Gendry." Rickon told him as he turned to face Arya. "What do you think?"

To Arya, all Rickon was missing was a beard and he would look like their father, ready for war. "You look amazing little brother. The gorget looks just like the one the Jon used to wear."

"I just wish all of it wasn't so heavy." Rickon said.

"Be grateful for what you have," Arya told him, "you'll be glad when it stops a sword from killing you." Regardless of her encouragement to Rickon, armor was never a guarantee to stop whatever weapons attacked it.

"Or an arrow." Rickon added, reminding everyone of his injury he took at the Battle of the Bastards.

Arya felt a small bit of anger flare in her when he said that. She wished she could have been at the battle and killed Ramsay herself. But she had no idea who he even was or that he even existed at the time. But if she did, the Bolton Bastard and every soldier who was a part of the Red Wedding would've been on her list. "Come one," Arya told him, "Sansa and Bran are waiting for us."

Rickon awkwardly walked over to her as she held the entrance of the tent. Before leaving herself, Arya looked over at Gendry. "I'll see you tomorrow morning." With time growing short, she wanted to spend as much as she could be allowed to with those she held dear to her.

"Goodnight, milady." Gendry poked. Arya rolled her eyes and scoffed at him before she followed after her brother.

When they arrived at the tent their brother and sister were housed in, Sansa looked delighted to see Rickon as he was while Bran seemed to try.

"Look at you," Sansa said looking very proud at Rickon, "a young soldier of the North."

Rickon looked uncomfortable at Sansa's remarks. He was coming of the age where he didn't want to be seen as a boy anymore, but he had far more growing up to do before he could call himself a man.

"Robb wore the exact same thing when he went to war." Bran commented. It was only a shame he didn't wear it when he went to weddings.

"Is Jon on his way?" Arya asked. It was his idea to gather everyone together for the evening in the first place.

"He's on his way with Theon." Bran informed.

"Theon's joining us?" Rickon asked.

"Jon wanted a night for the children of Winterfell. He grew up with us just as we grew up with each other."

Arya didn't like it. She didn't forgive Theon for what he did, but in the end far worse would have happened if he didn't.

It wasn't long until Ghost popped inside the tent and shook a light layer of snow out of his fur. Everyone raised their arms in hopes to prevent incoming projectiles from getting on their bodies.

Jon and Theon both entered after Ghost finished unloaded the snow from his body. The two of them shared a laugh together as Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon wiped themselves clean of what hit them. "Good boy, Ghost." Jon said. The white direwolf laid down on the floor at Bran's feet, looking relaxed and contempt. "Rickon, you look ready to take on the Night King all by yourself."

"If I was a few years older I would." Rickon stated.

"Is Daenerys joining us?" Sansa asked.

"No, she's with Missandei and Ser Jorah and a few others. Tonight, and tonight only, it's just us." Jon walked over to a small table that had a keg and six mugs. While he began to fill each mug with a warm drink, Theon took a seat in a chair while Arya and Sansa sat down on Jon's bed and Rickon sat on the floor.

"I heard your sister had her baby." Rickon announced to Theon.

Theon nodded uncomfortably. "Yara had a baby girl."

"What's her name?" Sansa asked.

"She didn't give her one. She said that she wants no love for her in any way. She said the baby is just a reminder of what Euron did to her." It sounded awful, but also understandable. The baby was a product of rape and incest, two things that can scar the heart more than the body.

"I'm sorry," Rickon said, "I didn't mean to pry like that."

Theon shook his head at him. "It's alright. The baby girl is staying with my son on the Iron Islands. She'll be in good hands."

Jon began to hand out drinks to everyone. "You spoke to her then?" Jon must've been referring to the mother of Theon's son.

"Her name's Bella. I spoke with her twice before I was allowed to speak to… Small Theon, I call him." He turned his head to look at Jon. "He reminds me a lot Robb more than myself. He'll be nice to Yara's daughter, a brother more than a cousin." Theon looked on the verge of trembling. He didn't look sad or scared, but instead confused. "I'm sorry for everything, I am. Even if it means nothing to hear it, I have to say it."

"It doesn't mean nothing," Arya told him, "we can't change the past. As much as we wish we could, we can't. But we can remember it to make a better future."

Jon raised his mug to the air. "Here's to future. May it be better than what we've been given." Everyone raised their mugs with Jon and took their first drink. Rickon spat his out and began coughing hard, making everyone laugh at his first taste of ale.

"Shut up," Rickon exclaimed, "it went in wrong."

The opportunity was too good for Arya to let it pass. "I bet that's what Theon's first visit to a brothel was like." The only ones who got a laugh out of that were her, Jon, and Theon.

"Arya!" Sansa shouted while failing to resist a smile. Rickon just looked confused and didn't understand what the joke meant while Bran wore a fake smile.

The evening for the Starks was spent drinking and being merry. No one would've argued against spending their time like this instead of preparing for the battle. They needed this, for it could be the last time they were all together.

After an entire mug of ale, Jon began to recall the time he and Robb tried to scare Sansa, Arya, and Bran in the crypts. "I poured the flour all over my body," Jon explained while trying to contain his laughter, "and waited behind grandfather's statue for Robb to bring you three. When I saw the light of lantern I jumped out screaming as loud as I could."

"I remember what happened after that," Arya chuckled, "Sansa started screaming louder than you and Robb couldn't laugh because Bran started crying."

"And you ran as fast as you could to father." Bran said.

Arya didn't know whether or not she had too much to drink or if she had a bad memory because she didn't remember that happening at all. "Are you sure? You were only two years old."

"You're asking someone who can see every event of time at will if they remember something correctly?"

Arya became dumbfounded when she realized what she just did.

"I'm joking, Arya." Bran started to lightly laugh at her and it surprised everyone.

"You told a joke?" Sansa asked.

"I did." Bran confirmed.

Arya wasn't the only one to be overjoyed at this. Bran had been nothing but emotionless for months, but now he was starting to seem like their brother again instead of a magic all seeing cripple.

"It's getting late," Jon declared as he set his mug on the table, "we have a lot to do tomorrow, so get to bed soon." Even though he was deep into his ale, he kept a fatherly composure for all of them.

"No argument there." Arya agreed, feeling the weight of her eyelids starting to grow. She placed her mug next to Jon's and retrieved her cloak from Jon's bed. "Goodnight everyone."

While she walked past many tents and guards on patrol, Arya had time to gather her thoughts and shake away any drunk feelings she could. She wrapped her cloak around her body and trapped a small bit of warmth to her body as she thought about what the battle would be like. Arya remembered growing up and reading stories about great wars and conquering heroes. But being in the center of a great massacre changed her entire view on such things. All of the glory and victory that the stories of old had, those were things that happened after the wars and battles. The only thing true about every battle in history was that there was death. What differentiated the battles was the kind of death there was.

 _'There is only one thing we say to Death.'_ The voice of Syrio Forel rang through Arya's mind.

"Not today." She whispered to herself. Arya wished she could've learned more from Syrio. Her skill was great, but not good enough if the Hound told her that her duel with Jon was nothing but pity. That was when she made a personal vow to herself. After the war, she would have a real fight with him.

* * *

Daenerys

Having finished a well deserved get together with those Daenerys held close in her heart, she was escorted back to her tent by Greyworm and two other Unsullied. She didn't ask for him specifically, but he took it upon himself to see to her safely walked through the camp.

"Did you enjoy the wine Grey Worm?" Daenerys asked.

"No, wine tastes bitter when I drink it and it makes my senses feel strange. A poor drink before a battle."

Daenerys was a bit envious of him. She hadn't had a single glass ever since she learned she was pregnant, but she was beginning to have cravings for it. But with the help of Missandei and her other friend, she found ways to suppress it. "Ser Jorah once told me a tale of a drunken Red Priest who fought at the siege of the Iron Islands with a flaming sword and woke up the next day wondering how he became part of a battle."

"The red priests and followers of the Lord of Light are granted fire magic in exchange for their blood." Grey Worm informed. "Many men run away when they see a sword burst into flames."

"And many more men run away when they see a dragon."

Grey Worm looked agreeing with her as they arrived at her tent. "Mhysa, could I ask for a gift?"

This was the first time Daenerys ever heard Grey Worm ask her for a gift. "What kind of gift?"

"When the wars are over and the throne yours, I want to sail to the Summer Isles and Naath with Lady Missandei. To have a time that we can be ourselves instead of what the masters made us into." Daenerys wasn't surprised at all when Grey Worm asked her. To give someone a chance to be something instead of a soldier wasn't unreasonable at all.

Daenerys gave Grey Worm a very comforting smile. "For all you have done for me, such a request can easily be granted." She would grant that kind of wish to all the former slaves if they desired. Grey Worm was just the first one to be direct about it.

"You are kind, Mhysa."

"Now go, I believe I am keeping you from another beauty." Daenerys didn't want to let Missandei be delayed for  _'many things.'_

Grey Worm bowed his head and left his Queen at the entrance of Jon's tent.

Before Daenerys entered, she took a last look at the stars and took notice at their simple beauty. People see them every night of their lives, but it's only when they take a moment to really look at them that they see that they have a divine feeling about them.

Inside the tent, Jon had already dressed into his night clothes and was sitting down in a chair with a cloth in one hand and Longclaw in the other. He ran the clothe up and down the blade, cleaning any bit of dirt or pollutant that might be in the blade.

"Feeling nervous?" Daenerys poked.

"Not as much as before our wedding." He told her. She couldn't help but feel the same way. She began to change out of her cloak and gown as Jon sheathed Longclaw back into its scabbard and grabbed her nightgown, ready to assist her.

"Then tell me how I can ease my husband's mind. I want him to rest peacefully with me this night."

"Well if you wanted to that, then we wouldn't be doing much resting at all." Jon looked at her hesitantly before she grabbed hold of his body and started to kiss him.

Daenerys forced Jon to drop her nightgown as she slowly walked them to their bed. "Take off your clothes." She spoke slowly.

"As my queen commands."

* * *

The light of the lanterns within the King and Queen's tent begin to glow dim as the night pressed on. Jon and Daenerys laid together under their heavy fur blankets, receiving more warmth from each other than the furs.

Daenerys let her thoughts drift to whatever they desired as she perched her head on her pillow. She began to think about the Night King and the White Walkers and how they came from the Lands of Always Winter. She didn't know much about that place or the legends of the North for that matter.

"What do you think is beyond the edge of the North?" Daenerys quietly asked.

"Probably more snow," Jon quipped.

"I'm being serious. What do you think is beyond the world that we know?"

"The farthest I've ever been north was the Frostfangs. From what I saw there was nothing but snow, ice, and mountains. I can't think of what else is out there. But… I do remember I had a dream not long ago about a mountain. It was where the Night King was hiding for the past eight thousand years."

"Hiding?" Daenerys didn't understand what he meant when he said that.

"The White Walkers were never defeated in the first war against them, only driven back. I think that's why it's always been winter beyond the Wall. If we win, those lands may yet see spring once again."

"If we win, I want you to take me somewhere north. I want to see what lands without castle look like."

"I know of a nice cave I can show you." Jon told her. Daenerys didn't look at him, but hse could feel Jon smiling.

"Tell me more of the lands." It seemed to Daenerys that the place that has been cut off from the world had the most mysticism about it that drew her attention. "What do you think the northern edge of Westeros is like?"

Jon didn't answer immediately. It felt like he was in deep thought about it. "When I was a boy, I caught the pox and was bedridden for a few days." This came out of nowhere, but Daenerys listened all the same. "On the worst night, I couldn't sleep at all, but I couldn't stay awake at the same time. I was caught somewhere in between. But I could still dream. I remember everything I saw in my mind. I was standing on a beach. The sands were silver and the smell of the sea was a scent that was sweet. The sunset a gold I never thought existed. But when the light of day was gone, I saw something I long to see in my dreams once again."

Daenerys became entranced by Jon's memory, her mind begging her to know. "What Jon? See what?"

"A moonless night, and a sky filled with an uncountable number of stars and clouds of light. A dark sky that was brighter than the sun could ever hope to be. I thought I was looking at heavens themselves."

Daenerys couldn't imagine what such a place looked like, but she longed to see that place herself after hearing it. "Maybe you were, or maybe they were looking at you."

The light of the lanterns completely disappeared, leaving the two of them in total darkness. "Maybe."

The two of them fell into a deep sleep that they both hoped wouldn't end, so long as they were with each other.

Daenerys began to feel her mind take her from a void of nothing to her dreams, and the power of her child Matthias began to share her desire to know the place his father spoke of.

Daenerys found herself sitting down on silver beach, dressed in a moon white dress that was softer than any silk she ever wore. The fabric flowed like water when caught in the breeze. The sand looked cold but was warm to the touch. Curled up next to her was a small black wolf pup and a silver dragon, fresh from being hatched.

The three of them looked out to the sky and saw more than what Jon had described to them. Trails of small light streaked across the sky and the cosmic light looked like it was bursting from the shadows of night beyond the stars.

"It's beautiful." Daenerys unconsciously spoke.

Instantly after she said that, the warmth of the sand disappeared and the air grew cold. Daenerys cold see her breath beginning to freeze and the light of the sky fading away. The baby dragon and wolf pups crawled onto her lap and felt terrified.

Daenerys shot awake and felt a shivering breeze enter the tent. She sat up and looked at saw falling snow start to leak into the tent with the light of morning. Jon woke up after her and placed his arms around her for comfort. "Are you alright?"

Before she could give her answer, they both heard the sound of a horn blasting. The was a small pause before a second blast was made. But after that, there was nothing. "Two blasts," Daenerys said.

"They're on the horizon."

* * *

Jon

The afternoon came fast and there wasn't a single person bustling about doing something to prepare for the Army of the Dead. Only one in ten people seen wasn't yet dressed in their armor and everything was loud with the shouts of orders and commands.

Jon was in his command tent with Howland Reed, Bran, Jaime Lannister, and two other commanders who were in the place of Edmure and Tormund. They were all overlooking a map of the Wall and the lands north of it.

Howland traced his finger to a location about thirty miles away from where Castle Black once stood. "The wargs are keeping watch on the army and report that they are moving at a slow pace. They'll arrive at the Wall late in the night."

"What about the Night King?" Jon asked. "Have they seen him or the dragon?"

"He's not with the army," Bran informed, "he's preparing himself for the battle."

"What does that mean?" Jon asked.

"Right now, he's in the Cave of the Three Eyed Raven. He's just staring at the corpse of the one before me." Bran gazed to the empty space in front of him for a few moments before jostling around. "He didn't want me watching him."

"As long as we know where he is." Jon said. "We don't want him to flying around us and attacking from behind." Jon looked up from the map to the men in the tent. "I want the army to march to the Wall in and two hours. When the army reaches the Haunted Forest, I want ravens sent to Queensgate and Oankenshield. Everyone must be in formation and ready for battle."

The men with him nodded in unison before dismissing themselves to pass along the orders. The time was drawing closer and Jon himself had to prepare.

Back in his tent, a young northern lad waited patiently for the King to return to help him put on his armor. The pieces were strapped on one by one and the fit was perfect. This was the first time Jon had ever worn all of the pieces besides the gorget. The feeling of the armor felt more protective than what he wore when he fought against the Bolton army. As the last pauldron was secured to Jon's arm and the gorget, Daenerys walked inside. The young lad bowed his head to his queen before finishing his work and leaving.

"You look marvelous." Daenerys commented.

"It would make me feel better if you wore some." Jon told her.

"That won't be happening as long as I have two children inside of me." Jon had no regrets about their miracle, but a part of him did wish that it didn't happen until after the fighting was done. Regardless, the only thing he wanted was Daenerys to be safe. He walked up to het and gently embraced his wife, taking every moment he could to make for just them. "We will win this war." Daenerys assured him.

"But will we survive it?"

"I know in my heart we will."

Jon let go of Daenerys and took a lasting gaze into her enchanting eyes, remembering the moment he fell for her. "That's all I needed to hear."

Jon retrieved Longclaw from leaning up against a table and strapped the sword belt around his waist before putting on his cloak. As he left his tent with Daenerys next to him, his thoughts began to ponder around where he was, and what he was doing. So long, so long it has been since that day he left Winterfell, the day he truly started his journey that led to him going to war against the White Walkers and becoming a king. But now he was going to face them. Finally, after all the pain lost to the night King and his army, it was near time to settle the score.

The two of them join Jon's siblings and Ser Jorah. Together, all of them gathered would meet one last time before separating with their respective factions of war. Arya, dressed in light armor aover her regular clothes, would be part of the reserves behind the infantry since she couldn't use a bow or a spear, just Blackfyre. Sansa would join the maester and others who would be tending to wounded afterwards. Rickon and Ser Jorah will be joining the archers at the front, but after the retreat Ser Jorah made a promise to protect Rickon. Bran being unable to fight with weapons would be safely far from the battle, but he would be guiding Nymeria and her pack to the battle when the fighting will break out.

"So this is it," Ser Jorah said, "this could very well be the last time anyone of us sees the other."

"It could be," Jon said, "that's I order every one of you not to die."

"Only if you promise not to either." Arya said.

Jon wouldn't allow himself to. He's done it one time more than anyone should. "I promise."

* * *

Arya

After many hugs and holding back tears of fear, Arya left to go join the Northerners among fifty thousand others and get organized. But before she did, there was one more person she had to speak to.

Gendry was outside of his tent, dressed in his armor save for the helm. He looked like a true knight, the kind every boy dreams of being and every girl dreams of being rescued by. Over his armor was a yellow and black surcoat with his sigil. He was talking with Beric Dondarrion who was given a set of the armor the Fiery Hand wore.

Beric noticed Arya's presence and cut his time short, leaving Gendry alone.  _'He did something right for once.'_  Arya thought to herself.

Gendry noticed her and looked very pleased that she came to see him. "I thought you would've joined the Northern army by now." Gendry told her.

"And I thought you knew me better than to guess such a thing. Of course I had to see you before we go to war." Arya couldn't let herself skip a moment together with him. They had been through too much together to waste a chance as this. But unfortunately for her, she didn't know what to say.

"Arya," Gendry said, "if I don't make it-"

"Don't you dare say another word like that. If tell yourself you can't this then you won't be able to." It was then Arya could pass along one of the best lessons she ever learned. "If find yourself in front of death, do you what you tell him?"

Gendry shrugged his shoulders. "Piss off?"

Arya smiled amusingly that Gendry could make a joke at a time like this, it was one of the things she loved about him. "Not today."

"Then how about we make a promise?"

"What kind?" Arya asked curiously.

"If we both make survive, Hotpie gets to come with me to Storm's End, and so do you."

Arya felt a knot in her stomach form when he said that. "And what would I do in Storm's End? Would I be your lady?"

Gendry smiled at her. "You wouldn't be my lady, you'd be my family." He turned her words against her. Before she could say anything back to him, Gendry walked away to join Beric, leaving Arya alone and without an answer.

She watched him disappear as another friend walked up next to her. "I feel sick watching the two of you." Sandor said.

Arya didn't even look at him when she replied. "Then maybe you shouldn't watch."

Sandor heavily sighed and rolled his eyes. "I am only ever going to say something like this once. Just because a woman is a lady of a castle or some other fucking thing, it doesn't mean she's a dress wearing damsel her whole life." Arya turned her head to look at Sandor, not believing that he was actually talking to her about that. "You can choose what kind of person you get to be. And is really as bad as you're making it? Ladies have power, families, and a place to call home. So stop bitching and think about it before you regret it."

Arya never did think about it that way before. The only thing she didn't want to be was what Sansa was before they left Winterfell but thinking about how different she was now gave her a new look at it. "Sandor-"

"Not a word, or I break your bloody legs."

Arya didn't know how to respond to that. She knew that he probably would but felt like he didn't mean it. "Can I ask you something?"

"One question, then no more."

One question was all she needed. "Why are telling me this?"

For a rare moment, Sandor didn't look angry. "Because I'd rather be a lord than a Hound who leaves a trail of bodies wherever he goes." Before Arya could speak, Sandor cut her off. "I said no more. Now are you coming with me or not?"

Arya took a long look at him and could see something more than she let herself see before. She gently nodded and walked with him on their way to join the Northern host and to prepare for war. As they did, Arya made a mental note that the next time she saw Gendry, she would give him his answer.

* * *

Jon

The last light of day had vanished when the unnatural storm clouds swallowed the sky and consumed the land. The Army of the dead was nearly upon them and everyone who was going to fight in this war was about to experience the longest night of their lives. A night that not everyone would wake up to see the day.

Ghost joined Jon and Daenerys as they prepared to mount their dragons. But seeing that he couldn't ride along, Jon knelt down to his direwolf and gave him a scratch behind his ears. "Sorry boy," Jon said, "but you can't come with me. I need you to do something else instead." Ghost perched his ears up, waiting for Jon's order. "Go find Bran and keep him safe." The moment Jon's hand left contact with Ghost's fur, the White Direwolf sprinted away back to the camp.

Daenerys walked next to Jon and watched with him as Ghost disappeared in the color of the snow. "Are you ready?"

"We're about to face an army of dead soldiers. If we win, we have another war to fight. If we lose… I don't think anyone is ready." Jon turned to Daenerys and grabbed hold of her hands, intertwining her fingers with his. "I won't tell you what to do if I die or make any promises. All I can say is I love you Dany. I love you more than anyone I've known."

Daenerys held back her tears as she planted a light kiss to Jon. "And I love you Jon, no matter what you are, a bastard of Winterfell, or my husband and King. From this day until the end of my days."

Jon gave her one last kiss, putting every emotion he could into it, before letting go of her hands. He turned away and walked up to Rhaegal, mounting him and ready to fly. The dragons had grown considerably since the first nested in the North. Ygris and Lyarras were nearly as big as Rhaegal and Viserion were when Jon first set foot on Dragonstone. Rhaegal however was just as big as Drogon was that same time. But Drogon was far larger than all of them, his head almost the size of a carriage, making him almost the size of Balerion the Dread. Jon looked at Daenerys once more, praying to any god who could hear him to not let this be the last time they see each other. "Come on Rhaegel, let's go."

The large green dragon jostled around a bit before getting a running start and spreading his wings. Ygris followed closely behind as the two dragons took off from the ground and into the sky. The flew higher than the Wall and circled around the gap that was made, giving them a clear view of the battle ground. The ice that had collapsed was mostly cleared away on the north side and the scythe was such a weight that it couldn't be moved, so it was left were it fell, not a hundred yards from the rebuilt wall. On the battlements on top and on the bottom, thousands of archers waited for the enemy to arrive at their doorstep.

Jon took this moment to let himself be heard by those who would fight for him. His bond with Rhaegal had grown strong enough that the magic that gave Valyrians the power to ride and control dragons let him mentally speak his guidance to his dragon. Rhaegal swooped down and landed in between the infantry wall and the foot soldiers, Ygris landing shortly after. There was no way the entire army would be able to hear him, but he would make sure many would.

"Look around you all! You stand with men from every corner of this country! Every corner of this world! But tonight, you fight as one army! Against one enemy! Those creatures from hell come to take this world from you! You will not let them! We will show them that we are the hell they fear! We will show them that we are greatest army that has ever been!"

The sound of a horn blast echoed throughout the land with a weight that felt like it was heard across the world.

"Tonight is the night we will win!"

A second horn blasted sounded shortly after the first.

"Tonight is the night we finish what our ancestors started!"

The third and final horn blast sounded, like an echo that begins an avalanche.

"They think we're afraid of them, so let's let them hear it!"

Rhaegal and Ygris both let out mighty roars as Jon raised his fist into the air and every soldier, whether they heard or not, yelled mighty battle cries that would shake mountains.

The calm was gone, and now began the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did what I could and am not rewriting this unless someone points out a very good reason why. Now if I don't see any good maney, then the next produst I give to you might match it, aha aha aha. Note that there is no LOL at the end of that last sentence, so who's to say I'm joking?  
> SHOW ME THE MONEY!


	69. The Storm Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After much advice from my wonderful beta The Hope Lions, I have decided that instead of releasing the War for the Dawn as one giant chapter, it shall be split into parts. This is to hopefully satisfy many of your hunger, but also it takes some stress off of me. The length of this is going to be far longer then I first thought and it may take me another month to finish. The Next part however will be up some time next week. Now then, given how much time and effort I am putting into this, surely you can do the same with a review. at the End. Enjoy.

Part 1

* * *

Rickon

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XeYNHwRswYU. Listen while reading!

The sound of the horn blasts gave way to a dread, settling doubt in the minds of all that heart it. The sight of blue eyes looked like stars emerging from the shadows of the Haunted Forest. The light they gave poisoned the body with fear. In the distance lands beyond the Wall, a great snowstorm that swallowed the mountains from sight was nearing the edge of the trees. The winds they blew through the gap of the Wall had been traveling northbound for days, but a sudden change turned them south and a cold far greater than any felt before came with it.

On the battlements made of ice, wood, and steel, five thousand archers stood side by side, forming two rows from on end to the other, all ready with their bows and five arrows in hand. In the first row, for every grown, seasoned, archer were four children. In the second row, as well as fifteen feet below on the ground were another five thousand archers, all grown and skilled. Behind them on the secondary battlements were only two thousand, but armed and ready.

Rickon stood at the dead center of the front lines, watching with everyone else as the Army of the Dead walked closer. Even while wearing thick clothes under his armor and his winter cloak, Rickon could still feel his hands shivering. But he felt it was from fear more than the cold. He was far more afraid of what brought the storm than the storm itself.

To Rickon's left was Ser Jorah with a bow and Snow at his sword belt. On his right was Johnna looking just as scared as he was. Behind both of them was Anguy, who would be calling out the commands when the time came.

As Rickon tightened his grip on bow, he felt a hand placed on his shoulder from behind him. "Are you afraid?" Anguy asked.

Without looking at him, Rickon nodded. A blast of cold air rushed past him and everyone around him. It didn't feel like a question since it was obvious, but more like something Anguy wanted to know for certain.

"Good, it's far better than being stupid." Confused, Rickon and Johnna both turned to look at Anguy questioningly. He shook his head then, as if the reason for what he said was obvious. "If you don't let yourself be afraid, then you can't learn to be brave." He patted Rickon on the shoulder and returned to looking forward.

Hearing those words didn't calm Rickon, but they did bring a small bit of comfort to him. But deep down he wanted to run from the battle. He was just over twelve and about to fight in a war. He could even tell he wasn't the only child who wanted to run, or only person for that matter. He didn't care about being brave, he wanted to be safe and away from all of this.

But then he remembered being Ramsay's prisoner and running from arrows at the Battle of the Bastards. All he ever did since all of this started was run from everything. Ramsay, the Night King, the bear. He shook the thoughts from his head, trying to remove any doubt lingering among them.

From behind, the sounds of the dragons roaring, and battle cries of the army, could be heard, echoing all the way from the source to beyond the Wall. Without question, Anguy, Ser Jorah, and all of the other adults raised their fists into the air and let out their own calls of battle. Maybe something like that would give Rickon something to help face the dead. He and many of the other children joined the army's shouting. Doing such a thing brought the feeling of victory before the battle even begun.

Hundreds of yards away, the Army of the Dead halted and became still. The shouting died down and all was silent save for the winds of winter. The silence felt like the kind that one who is guilty has before admitting his crime out of shame. At the frontlines of the dead were the White Walkers, more than thirty of them, all riding on their undead horses. The light of their eyes shined more prominently than that of their soldiers. One of them raised his spear of ice and let out a cry, a kind that carried a weight that crawled up the Wall and right over to the south. The noise was followed by the Army of the Dead's own battle cry before foot soldiers began to charge forward at a wild speed.

Rickon was not the only one who began to breathe nervously as light vibrations could be felt coming from over two hundred thousand dead men running to kill them all. In between both armies were small markers marking distances that were in range of the archers. The only cover the dead would have against such attacks was the giant scythe that was out in the open.

"LISTEN UP!" Anguy shouted, gaining the attention of all who could hear him. "IF I SEE A SINGLE ARROW MISS THEN I'LL MAKE SURE WHOEVER SHOT IT IS LEFT BEHIND!" At this point, the army of the dead passed the furthest marker. "KNOCK!" Rickon grabbed one of his dragonglass arrows and knocked it on his bowstring, letting out a deep breath and searching for the target he knew would be his. All of the other archers on the battlements followed suite. "DRAW!" Raising the bow up high, Rickon kept his eyes on the path the arrow would take to find its mark. Now, the battle truly began. "LOOSE!" Thousands of arrows were shot high into the sky and arched beautifully before taking their fall to meet that which they would kill.

https://multirandomness21.deviantart.com/art/Rain-of-Dark-Stars-729498761

As the arrows fell, the shimmer of the dragonglass emitted a shine that made all of them look like a rain of dark stars streaking across a darkened white sky. Within seconds, the arrows sinked to the ground and hundreds upon hundreds of blue eyed soldiers collapsed to the ground and became motionless. Only a couple dozen continued onward. "I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCKING MISS!" Anguy shouted before the second volley would begin. At this point, new soldiers took the place where many had fallen and closed the distance between them and the battlements. Anguy put his fingers in his mouth and gave a loud whistle that was repeated by many others signaling the archers on the ground to join the next volley. "KNOCK!" Grabbing the second arrow felt less terrifying than grabbing the first did. "DRAW!" Gazing out to the dead, there were too many to find just one to hit. "LOOSE!" The volley from the ground whistled by, bring a small gust of wind with each arrow. A second rain of dark stars rushed down to the ground and all that escaped the first volley was struck down and many more behind.

As the Army of the Dead continued to advance, Rickon noticed a small group of about twenty moving slowly with their shields raised up high, protecting everything underneath from being hit. Whatever it was they were protecting, the group wasn't heading for the Wall, but the giant scythe in the field. Behind them were two giants, both dragging a large tree, freshly torn from the ground with them, using the thick branches to keep the arrows from hitting them.

When the small grouping of shields reached the head of the scythe, they parted and unveiled three of the White Walkers. Far enough that Rickon could see, the White Walkers placed their hands on the cold steel head of the scythe. "KNOCK!" Anguy called out the order, but Rickon didn't follow it since he couldn't shake a feeling he had. He remembered what happened when the Night King touched his sword it shattered, but the scythe didn't when the White Walkers did. "DRAW!" The two giants that followed dropped the tree off to the side and raised two large clubs they had above them, ready to swing at the scythe.

Rickon held his breath as the giants swung their clubs at the head and the steel shattered like glass. "GET DOWN!" Rickon shouted. Instinctively, he reached out for Johnna and Ser Jorah and tugged them down with him and he ducked to his feet. Only a few heard him and ducked in time before dozens of steel shards whizzed by. Most of the pieces hit the walls of ice, but many found their way above and hit the archers. A few of them were struck and fell backwards and off of the battlements while some of the children around them merely collapsed and their blood began to stain the ice.

Rickon looked around and noticed that Anguy was no longer behind him, but on the ground below him, bleeding heavily from his neck and face, remaining motionless. At least for a moment he didn't move, then his body squirmed and his eyes turned blue. But before anything could happen, Ser Jorah shot a dragonglass arrow into Anguy's body, returning him to a dead state. "Check the wounded!" Ser Jorah shouted as he drew a dragonglass dagger and looked at the bodies that fell. Many of the ones that had rose back up but were quickly put back down with the magic of the dragonglass.

Rickon looked to Johnna and checked to see if she had been hit. "Are you alright?" he asked. Johnna rapidly nodded at him, showing no signs of injury. Glad she wasn't hurt, Rickon slowly rose up and looked over the battlements to see if the giants were preparing for another attack like that. But while the first one happened, the third volley had been released. With the attack made by the dead a small section was free of arrows and the dead broke past the mark of retreat. Luckily the arrows found their way to the two giants and both were lying dead in the snow by the scythe. But the White Walkers remained unharmed. "We need to sound the retreat!" Rickon shouted to any who could hear him.

It wasn't long after he said that a horn blast signaled for the first line to fall back. Without delay, the archers in the front grabbed hold of what arrows they could and began to empty the battlements calmingly retreating back to the south.

"Rickon!" Ser Jorah called as he picked up the body of a young girl who was bleeding at her left arm. But not just any girl, it was Lady Lyanna Mormont. She was passed out and Ser Jorah looked distraught. "Let's go!" Rickon and Johnna both followed him quickly down the wooden steps of the battlements, being careful to not trip and fall. When they got to the ground, the archers in the second line of battlements and on the ground knocked their arrows for another volley. It was up to them now.

* * *

Sam

The deaths on the front lines was not expected. From all of the experience that anyone had with the dead that Sam knew of, they weren't keen on using ranged weapons. The sight of those that fell of the battlements and the children whose bodies were left during the retreat weighed on Sam's heart. He had been in enough battles to stomach death, but the sight of the children made him sad. Only a few survived that vicious attack and were carried away.

Only a dozen men remained on the front battlements to act as spotters to call out the orders for the archers. Each of them carried a red flag to wave, signaling for the volleys to prepare. Even as Sam knocked his first arrow, many could be seen raining down from up high on the east and west side of the Wall.

"Are you ready for this, Sam the Slayer?" Edd jokingly asked as the two of them waited for the command to draw.

Sam used to take insult from the name since everyone who called him that did so to mock him. They didn't believe he slew a White Walker, but once Ser Alliser died, the new brothers of the Watch from Essos heard about his deed and gave him praise when they called him that. "Seven hells no."

"If only the dead died by reading books, you could take them on single handedly." Given the circumstances, a conversation was not the right thing to be having. But given what was happening, a conversation was the only way to keep things calm and focus on the task at hand rather than the fear.

Sam rolled his eyes as the two of them and the rest of the archers drew their bowstrings back and then released their arrows. If only his father and brother were alive to see him right now. The two of them had looked down upon him for being a fat reader instead of a strong hunter. But now Sam was a Brother of the Night's Watch, defending the realms of men from the greatest enemy while all they did was hunt and play at war.

The arrows sailed high into the sky and then disappeared in front of the battlements and what lied beyond them. Without warning, two of the flag bearers ducked behind cover, but one of them was struck by a spear and thrown off the battlements and to the ground. The spearhead buried itself in the snow and the body slowly slid down the shaft before starting to thrash and the eyes turning blue. Someone quickly shot an arrow into the body and released it from the magic of the Night King.

"If they're in range to throw spears…" Sam said.

"Then it's time to go." Edd confirmed before pulling a horn he had at his side to his lips and blowing loudly. The Ground Forces were to retreat first and then the rest. "One more volley, and then we get the fuck of here." The remaining flag bearers retreated off the wall and joined the retreating ground forces while the last line of archers knocked their arrows and drew them back for one last volley.

By the time the arrows were released, there were loud crashes sounding at the front wall. Sections of ice began to move repeatedly as if they were being smashed with a battering ram, or a giant. This started a small panic among some of the men on the ground and they began to run as fast as they could, afraid of what would come through.

"And now it's our turn to run away." Edd said before blowing another blast from his horn, signaling the last line to retreat. The battlements began to empty and by the time Sam and Edd got to the ground, some of the dead soldiers were beginning to climb over the front wall, but only a few at a time. "Run!" Edd grabbed onto Sam by his shoulder and pushed behind him to go faster.

Sam wasn't one for running, but he would let himself fall behind like he did at the Fist of the First Men. As the two of them neared the bridge, men began to push forward to cross like a heard of animals. The dead were climbing over the front wall in dozens. But it wasn't long until two wight giants crashed through a section and the dead spilled through like water rushing past a collapsing dam.

The fear of the oncoming hoard tightened around Sam's mind by the time he was on the bridge even though almost everyone was across. Even when he got to the other side, the feeling didn't disappear.

"Light the pitch!" Someone shouted just moments before a blast of heat erupted from behind all of the fleeing soldiers. The trench and the bridges became filled with fire that transformed into a protective barrier, though one that would only last for a few minutes.

Already Sam was exhausted from running, but he refused to let himself give in. His efforts would be nothing compared to the rest of the battle. But his fight was done, he would not be able to wield a sword or a spear but he could be of use at the camps to heal others when the bodies begin to pile up.

The infantry parted ways for the retreating archers to make it through to the open south. When the last man past the lines, the infantry quickly closed off any way passed them. Once the fires in the trench were gone, the only thing in the way of the dead would be a wall of spears, shields, and some of the fiercest men to living had to offer.

* * *

Grey Worm

As the fires of the trench continued to burn, the number of glowing blue eyes began to grow behind them. The archers high on the west and east sides of the Wall continued to bombard the ground with dragonglass arrows while the archers outside the walls of the passage waited for the fire to die, and the dead to advance.

The Unsullied were no strangers to war, but the battle like this would only be granted to a few in the world's existence. Grey Worm stood in the third row of the front lines. He and everyone else who stood around him were ready and waiting for dead to crash into them.

Behind him he could feel the fear of the Westerosi men, but not from the Unsullied. They knew no fear, not of pain, death, or the demons that have come for them. But out of the six thousand Unsullied, one them was afraid, afraid he might not Missandei again, or that she might not see him again. No, he had to stand his ground and face this. If he could, nothing would ever make him afraid of those things again.

Grey Worm began to tap his spear rhythmically into the snow. His actions were repeated by his brothers in arms and the Westerosi men. Soon what was a faint tapping became a loud stomp followed by spears being banged against shields. The noise of war brought the fury of battle to one side and intimidation to the other.

In the center of the wall of fire, the flames were extinguished, revealing three of the soldiers with skin of ice and the eyes bluer than their soldiers. This was the first time any of them had seen a White Walker and the first time any of them felt a cold that was evil in nature. Being in the center of their army, the White Walkers remained protected by their soldiers and out of range from any projectiles. The rest of the fires disappeared, and the dead resumed their march forward. Although what started as a march turned into running like wild animals.

"SUMBYS BE!" Grey Worm ordered. The sound of thousands of heavy shields planting into the snow thundered the ground and the barricade was made. "EGRIOS!" Every soldier lowered their dragonglass spears in front of the line of shields and a few feet above to combat anything that attempted to climb over.

Grey Worm could feel the ground begin to tremble like a small earthquake as the dead drew closer, but the noise was soon overshadowed by the sound of his heartbeat banging in his ears like a loud drum. He breathed deeply to try and calm his senses but keeping his absolute focus on the dead charging forward. The archers of the east and west sides of the pass began to unleash their volleys, but even with so many arrows the dead didn't seem to thin out one bit.

Everything went completely silent for a brief instant before thousands of dead soldiers crashed into spears and shields, making a noise like a loud explosion. The force of the impact even made Grey Worm shift in his position before he pressed his weight forward. The dead were desperately trying to break through but to no avail. Though most of the dead men were decayed and rotting away with very little flesh on them, and their strength was greater than a living man's.

The Unsullied and Westerosi infantry began their thrusts with their spears at the dead. Every time Grey pushed forward into an enemy, he could feel something trying to pull him forward. It took all of his strength to keep his grip on his spear and not let something take it from him.

The infantry continued to hold their ground as volleys of arrows began to fire from behind and over them. But no matter how many arrows dived into the dead, the dead continued with all their strength. It wouldn't be long until the catapults would begin flinging jars of pitch into the fray and fire arrows shooting to light them.

All focus shifted as Unsullied in the front lines were pulled forward out of line and killed. For those around them quickly blocked off any openings, but the time it took was too long and the dead began attempting to break through.

The dead began slashing their broken weapons at whatever they could like rabid animals, letting out an agonizing screech as they did. About five more fell before the Unsullied managed to fix their lines and kill the dead that broke past.

One thing that shocked Grey Worm was witnessing the Unsullied that fell rise back up and attack the ones they were fighting with just seconds before. They were quickly put down and all focus returned to holding the line. They had to draw as many as they could to them so that Queen Daenerys could unleash her dragon's fury upon them when they were all crowed together like herded animals.

After a second volley of dragonglass arrows, the jars of pitch could be seen flying with them and the faint sound of them shattering could be heard through all of the chaos. The next volley of dragonglass arrows were joined by many fire arrows. The shields and the dead blocked the view of beyond, but faint burst of light could be seen which meant the pitch and dead were catching fire.

But after the first jars of pitch were flung, it would become clear that the living weren't the only ones attacking with heavy range attacks. The only indication that could be seen were the silhouettes of object sailing across the dark clouds through the snowstorm. Suddenly heavy logs and small boulders crashed into the infantry lines, killing more than they wounded. Some of the front lines were broken through and the dead began to leak in once again, but this time the opening would not be closed. Spears splintered, and shields broken as more projectiles came flying in and crashing down. The only creatures capable of throwing such objects had to be the giants.

In front of Grey Worm, the breach began to grow larger and many more of the Unsullied were beginning to turn into the blue-eyed puppets of evil. But he had to hold the line just a bit longer for Queen Daenerys. He failed to see a small tree trunk flying through the air and heading straight for the front lines. When the tree crashed down, it crushed the first two lines of men it hit and knocked back the three behind it before it rolled over. Luckily it passed Grey Worm enough that he could get up, but he could feel blood starting to spill over him. Lying on top of him was an Unsullied with a branch protruding through his body and head.

Feeling the drive for survival, Grey Worm shoved his comrade off of him and got back on his feet along with the few others who lived through such an attack. His helmet suffered damaged that obscured his vision so he had no choice but to remove it and the weight of his shield was too great so he had to sacrifice its protection as well. Now armed only with his spear, Grey Worm was ready to fight whatever rotting corpse came his way. Except there were none that did, only seven undead giants charging at full speed, each of them carrying large branches and whale bones for clubs. Some of them even had bronze blades attached to their weapons turning them into what could pass for axes.

Immediately prepared to grab the spear of a fallen Unsullied, Grey Worm switch his grip on his and threw the spear at the giant closest to him. The spear landed dead center in the giant's face and the great beast collapsed instantly.

Grey Worm picked up another spear from the ground and was going to throw it another one, but a hand tightly grabbed his ankles and kept him from moving. Grey Worm looked to the ground and saw three of his men had become three blue eyed soldiers and were slowly starting to get up. Without hesitating, Grey Worm thrusted his spear into the body of the one who had a grip on his ankle. The other two were on their feet by the time Grey Worm killed the creature. But his skill with the spear could easily best two wights. Using the shaft of the spear, Grey Worm slammed it into the head of one of the wights, knocking it backwards, before piercing the armor and body of the other. Quickly retrieving his weapon from the body, Grey Worm stabbed it down into the body of the other.

With the two distractions dead, Grey Worm turned around and readied himself for more. But to his dismay, two of the seven giants that charged at the infantry were swinging their clubs like pendulums, breaking spears and bashing soldiers' bodies into mangled sacks of meat covered in armor. The giant on his right was swiftly taken down by a spear to its body, but the other one wore bone armor over its torso which blocked three spears.

With another powerful thrust, Grey Worm threw his spear and managed to hit the giant in its shoulder, bringing it down. But before Grey Worm could get another spear, the dead were beginning to push through the opening again and all he had was his short sword and a dragonglass dagger. Drawing both, Grey Worm got in a fighter's stance and immediately began to engage the dead. The first pair of wights that charged at him were both practically skeletons with barely any skin covering their bones. Both of them carried cracked swords. The first one that attacked met its sword with Grey Worm's and the blade broke in half. Grey Worm lodged the dragonglass dagger in the wight's ribs and pulled the corpse in front of him to use as a shield against the other. By the time the wight he carried deteriorated and slipped to the ground, Grey Worm had decapitated the second wight by stabbing it down in the neck.

Before another set of wights could attack Grey Worm, the Westerosi infantry marched to the front to take the place of the Unsullied that had perished. With the men getting control of the lines once again, Grey Worm could regroup for a moment before joining back into battle. He sheathed his sword and dagger and picked up a new spear.

From atop the Wall, a horn blasted twice, which meant that the passage way had most of the Night King's Army inside of it. It was time for Queen Daenerys to do her part.

* * *

Daenerys

Watching the battle from afar was unlike anything Daenerys had ever seen. The sounds of battle were muffled yet distinct in way that describing exactly what was happening and the sight of it was like holding your breath and waiting for a great disaster to happen.

Drogon was starting to become restless as the snow continued to fall and the cold winds stirred. Through the sounds of battle and the whistling of the wind, Daenerys could hear the horn blast that meant it was her turn to fight.

Daenerys pulled her hood over her head and tightened her grip on Drogon's spikes but kept her posture loose enough to not disturb her pregnancy. But then again, she was about to fly on a dragon into battle and that was the last thing any woman should do while pregnant, especially with twins.

'Maybe they'll write a song about me.' Daenerys thought. Before she would give the command to take flight, Sansa Stark calmly yet cautiously walked up to Drogon's side.

"Bran said that the Night King is almost here. Keep your eyes on the northwest and as soon as you see him, fly as fast as you can." She called up.

Daenerys nodded and Sansa backed far away from Drogon, not wanting to be thrown back when he and Lyarras took flight. Daenerys felt nervous but determined. As long as she had her dragons, she would fight as much as she could.

Clear of any person in the way, Drogon rose up and started to crawl forward, before spreading his wings and pushing his legs off the ground. Drogon took off, follow by Lyarras. The dragons began a gentle glide before ascending higher into the air, soaring over the archers who would be retreating to the camps away from the battle.

The pace the dragons took was easy on Daenerys's body; they seemed to know that it wasn't just her they had to keep safe. But regardless of how tame the flight was, it wouldn't last long, and the wind rushing by was cold and the snow falling stung against her skin.

The dragons backed away from the battle and began to head east. As the distance grew between them and those who were fighting, Drogon and Lyarras climbed above the Wall and flew over to the northern side. On the ground further to the west was the Dothraki horde and Westerosi cavalry galloping towards the battle.

Daenerys had Drogon and Lyarras pass by them once before flying down and following her khalasar. The Dothraki screamers began to let out their cries of battle as the battle came into sight. Being a part of the charge gave Daenerys a sense of determination and ferocity greater than what she felt during the battle of the Blackwater Rush or the Burning of Slavers Bay.

Drogon and Lyarras sped past them and were approaching the first bit of the haunted forest they were to burn. Daenerys remembered when Jon told her about the Battle at Castle Black and how Mance Rayder lit the biggest fire the North has ever seen. 'Challenge accepted.' "Dracarys!" The buildup of heat was quick and released in a powerful fury of fire. Drogon and Lyarras unleashed streams of fire onto the Haunted Forest. The trees they hit were obliterated immediately, while the ones around them caught fire and spread the flames to others.

Daenerys had to make one more run igniting the forest before she could engage the dead. She had to make sure there would be absolutely no way for them to escape. As the dragons passed the Army of the Dead, she kept her eyes out for any projectiles that could be thrown at them. The strength and skill of the White Walkers was great enough to kill one of her dragons, she wouldn't let it happen again.

By the time the dragons finished their first pass the entire front of the forest had erupted in fire. Smoke began to replace the snow in the air and the heat was so great that as the dragons turned to make the last pass Daenerys could feel it warming her face from the cold winds.

As the dragons prepared for the second attack on the forest, Daenerys couldn't help but let her gaze linger to the northwest, watching for any sign of the Night King and Viserion. Unfortunately for her the smoke of the forest fire and the falling snow made it hard to see any signs of movement in the skies. The thought of the two of them appearing prodded at the back of her mind and she couldn't let herself forget it.

The dragons unleashed their fire again onto the forest, extending the blaze that already was. Apart from what the dragons were breathing, the flames were rapidly spreading at a rate that could reduce the entire forest to ash by dawn. But the flames were so dense in the trees that absolutely nothing could pass through them unscathed and no undead creature could either.

Drogon and Lyarras finished their final pass over the trees before setting coarse straight for the battle. They flew into the wall of rising smoke and came out on the side of the fighting. Daenerys could see most of the dead had been herded into the passageway as planned. But then there was a great deal of the dead that weren't moving at all. They were staying behind and out of range, as if waiting for something.

As the dragons got closer, a horn sounded signaling the archers to cease fire so that they wouldn't hit Daenerys or the dragons by mistake. The dead seemed to notice this and started to part ways out of the path of the dragons, but it was futile to try.

"Dracarys!"

Drogon and Lyarras unleashed their fire on the army of the dead and as soon as the flames reached the ground, they exploded like small erupting volcanoes. The wights caught in the path screeched out, pain and fear present in their tone.

The dragon fire cross over the trench with the pitch and reignited it, causing more to be lit aflame. Daenerys looked back at the destruction the dragons had left and for a brief moment after seeing the fire devour the bodies of the dead she thought the sight was beautiful.

The dragons ceased firing when the infantry came too close within their range and prepared to return for another attack. As they turned around, Daenerys could see that the trench fire and that of the dragons had been extinguished for a second time. The magic of the White Walkers was powerful enough to stop the flames from spreading, but not enough to stop them from happening.

Drogon's body began to heat up once again as he prepared to let out his fire against the dead. But before he could unleash his flames, Daenerys barely caught the glimpse of a lance made of ice being hurled into the air at Drogon.

The heat of Drogon's body died down as the dragon quickly dodged out of the lance's path. As he dived down, Daenerys noticed that there was more than one being thrown as two more cut through the air and missing. Drogon's flying become more intense as he had to maneuver out of the way and climb higher into the sky. A forth lance was thrown and managed to cut Drogon across his neck. The wound wasn't mortal, but it did pierce his hide deep enough for it to bleed. Drogon let out a loud roar. He began to kick his legs and it was caused Daenerys to be jerked around. She couldn't see what was causing him to act like this but she could tell that he was hit. Drogon wasn't falling to the ground so it couldn't be fatal, but it was painful.

"Drogon!" Daenerys called out. "Tegun rȳ iā ȳgha dīnagon!" – 'Land at a safe place!'

Drogon turned around and began to retreat back to the south side of the Wall and Lyarras followed closely underneath them. She began to breathe fire into the air at one point, but it was to destroy more lances of ice from attacking Drogon. Her smaller size made her faster and it was easier to dodge and maneuver away from such attacks.

The dragons began to lose altitude as they neared the Wall, but not in a way that was a crash landing. They needed to get to the camps so the maesters could see what was wrong with Drogon.

The moment Drogon passed the border of the Wall, Daenerys saw Rhaegal begin to take off from the ground followed by Ygris. Jon probably saw what happened and wanted to escort her with extra protection. At least, that's what she thought he was doing.

From behind in the sky, a loud mutilated dragon's roar sounded across the land. Daenerys turned her head to look behind her and emerging from the clouds was a sight that horrified her to look at. Viserion had appeared and was diving straight for her and Drogon. His appearance had changed so much since she last saw him. Viserion's skin was a dead white color and his wings were shredded at the edges. But the worst part was the eyes. His beautiful golden eyes were replaced by the evil blue that once contaminated Jon.

Daenerys's heart jumped straight into her throat as Viserion rapidly approached her, looking ready to kill without a second thought. He opened his mouth and a blue light began to form within his throat, the same blue as his eyes.

Without hesitating, Viserion let out a bursting stream of blue fire, but it was met and stopped with the fires of Rhaegal. Viserion moved out of Daenerys and Drogon's path and retreated back to the north side of the battle. Rhaegal and Ygris flew over Daenerys and Drogon, pursuing after Viserion and the Night King.

As Jon and his dragons began their battle with the Night King and Viserion, Daenerys retreated back to the camps with Drogon and Lyarras. There was a clearing near the center large enough for both of the dragons to land. Lyarras was the first to land and did so with ease, but Drogon cried out as he slowly let the weight of his body be caught by the ground. He continued to screech in pain from whatever wound it was that he took.

A few maesters cautiously kept their distance from the dragon as Daenerys was let down. Gently hopping off the dragon, Daenerys immediately tried to find what it was that was causing Drogon to be in so much pain. Protruding from Drogon's left leg was a lance of ice that the White Walkers used.

Meeting the eyes of the two closest maesters to the injury, Daenerys made her way to Drogon's head. "I'll calm him down while you pull the lance free."

The maesters nodded and slowly approached to where the lance was lodged as Daenerys came face to face with the largest of her dragons not only in size, but temper as well.

"Drogon," Daenerys said soothingly, "I know you're in pain, but you need to hold still so we can help you."

Drogon growled intensely at her but obeyed. Daenerys kept her eyes on him, but in the corner of them she could watch the maesters work.

When one of them grabbed hold of the lance's shaft, he let out a chilling scream as his hands began to freeze instantly. Jerking away from the pain, the maester managed to pull the lance out by accident but doing so made his hands snap off at his wrists like ice.

Drogon let out the same roar he did when the lance first struck him and his entirely body collapsed to the ground with a great thud. Daenerys felt her heart tighten in her throat and feared that the worst had happened. Had it not been for the slow, soft breaths that came out of Drogon's nostrils, Daenerys would've thought he died then and there. She would have been at ease if not for her worry that kind of damaged the maester had just suffered could also happen to a dragon.

The maester with no hands and his companion were joined by one of the more elderly maesters and they both immediately saw to the maester first. They dragged the handless man away as he passed out from the shock and then others began to inspect Drogon's wound. Since Drogon wasn't moving, they were less afraid of him now.

After a moment, one of the maesters approached her. "Normally, a creature with such a wound would be bleeding," The maester informed her

"But Drogon isn't?" Daenerys inquired.

"No, the blood and the flesh at the wound are frozen. I've never seen or read of any injury like this before. The closest thing I've seen is a severe form of frostbite."

"Then bring maesters who have a regular practice treating that kind of wound. Look for maesters who serve the North and the Night's Watch."

"At once, Your Grace." The maester immediately hurried away while relaying the order to three other maesters and they all split up into the camps.

Daenerys never believed in gods, but she couldn't help but pray for Drogon to be alright. She couldn't bear to lose another one of her children.

Daenerys looked up to the sky where she last saw Jon and hoped that no fate like this would come to him and the dragons.

* * *

Jon- Moments before

From where Jon and the Dragons were, the battle was in full view. They were waiting on a hill just behind the entire force of the foot soldiers, all of whom were itching to join the battle. Daenerys and the dragons had just finished igniting the forest and were beginning their attack on the dead. Watching Drogon and Lyarras breathe their fire onto the dead gave Jon a sense of satisfaction. He wanted to be there with them, but he couldn't risk the Night King catching them off guard. He had to wait and observe.

As Daenerys and Drogon finished their first attack and turned around to make another, Rhaegal lifted his head up and looked out to the sky. He began to rustle and growl, his mood seemingly uneasy.

Jon was almost thrown off Rhaegal as the dragon started to jerk his body around. "Woah! Rhaegal calm down!" Jon noticed that Ygris was acting the same as Rhaegal and hoped it wasn't for the reason he thought it was. Jon warged into Rhaegal so that he could understand what was troubling the dragon so much. All it took were the two words that were reoccurring in Rhaegal's mind for Jon to be equally worried.

'It's here.' Through Rhaegal's eyes, Jon could see how the dragon saw the world. Instead of seeing the living from the dead, he saw the prey from the wrong. But in the sky, he could sense where the greatest source of 'wrong' was- in the cover of the clouds but heading straight for Daenerys and Drogon.

Jon returned to himself and tightened his grip of Rhaegal. "Valahd!" Rhaegal and Ygris began charging forward to gain some speed before spreading their wings and kicking off the ground. Ygris was faster and took the lead while Rhaegal slowly rose higher in the air and slowly gained on her.

As they drew closer to Drogon and Daenerys, a loud unearthly sound came from the sky. It was a dragon roar, but it sounded the same as a White Walker's scream. After the sound was made, a dragon paler than Ygris emerged from the clouds and dove at Daenerys and Drogon.

Jon's thoughts were filled with anger and desperation. He could see Viserion's mouth begin to glow blue and it could only mean one thing. 'No you fucking don't!' "Rhaegal! Dracarys!" Jon focused his mind to make whatever came out of Viseion's mouth to be the target of Rhaegal's fire.

Viserion let out a stream of bright blue fire at the same time Rhaegal let out real dragon fire. The flames met, creating a small explosion in the air that turned a bright purple momentarily before Viserion ceased his attack and retreated north.

As Rhaegal flew over Drogon and Lyarras, Jon looked back to see if Daenerys was affected by what had just happened. To his relief she was just fine, but he could see that Drogon had a lance of ice lodged in his left leg. 'She knows what to do.' Jon thought to himself as he returned his focus on the Night King and Viserion, beginning the pursuit.

Rhaegal and Ygris flew in a tight formation and were chasing after Viserion who was heading straight for the eastern flank of cavalry. The horses began to scatter in the charge to avoid any attack from the undead dragon. Their efforts were fruitless as Viserion unleashed his blue fire wildly in every direction. Jon was shocked that the dragon had the capability to do such movements with a rider on him. A regular human would be thrown off the dragon's back and wouldn't be able to handle the force of being thrashed around. But then again, the rider wasn't human.

A great deal of the cavalry was hit by Viserion's dragon fire and the rest became disarrayed trying to avoid being hit. The screams of those that were burned were unlike any Jon had heard.

To Jon's advantage, Viserion attacking the cavalry helped close the distance between him and Rhaegal enough that Jon was in range. The moment Viserion passed over the cavalry, Rhaegal and Ygris both let out their flames at the both the dragon and the Night King. But instead of hitting them, the dragon fire was stopped as the Night King turned his body and raised his hand up, using a form of magic to make the fire stop right before it could engulf him and Viserion.

Rhaegal and Ygris ceased their flames when they realized it had no effect. When that happening, Viserion dove down before quickly ascending higher into the air and heading for the clouds. "Don't let him out of our sights!" Jon shouted.

Rhaegal and Ygris furiously continued the chase and rose higher into the sky, higher than Jon had ever been before. The dragons entered a gateway of clouds and blindly followed the trail of Viserion. They came out of the cover the clouds gave and entered a kingdom in the sky. The clouds of the storm formed castles of their own to a grandeur greater than any on the ground.

Viserion maintained his distance from Jon and Rhaegal, keeping out of range and flying in a violent way that made it difficult to keep up with. As long as the dragon could fly like that and the Night King able to handle such force, Jon wouldn't be able to catch up. But luckily for him, he had one more dragon than the Night King.

Through the magic that connects dragons with those of Valyrian blood, Jon could connect his thoughts and intentions with them without having to warg. Jon focused his mind on Ygris and a strategy for her to fly ahead and flank the Night King so that he and Rhaegal could intercept. Her speed was far greater than either of them making her the only one who could do it.

Knowing the plan, Ygris sped ahead and into the cover of the clouds, hidden away from both Jon and the Night King's vision. The moment she disappeared from sight, Viserion dove down and rapidly accelerated below the clouds, almost as if he knew what Jon was planning. No matter what, Jon couldn't let the Night King out of his sight. Rhaegal dove after him and finally had a chance to gain on the other dragon. Leaving the cover of the clouds in the sky, Viserion and Rhaegal returned within the sights of the battle and those who were fighting in it.

As the distance between the two dragons was closing, Viserion performed wicked maneuvers and flipped his body backwards, now facing Jon and Rhaegal while still falling. The moment Jon could see blue light forming at the wight dragon's mouth, he was already prepared to counter it.

"Dracarys!" Rhaegal unleashed his fire and once again met Viserion's. A small bit of the blue flames broke past where the dragon fire met and brushed near Jon, barely missing his face. But at so close a distance, Jon briefly felt a heat so hot it was cold.

To Jon's advantage, Viserion's attack slowed him down enough that no maneuvering could let him escape. Rhaegal bore his talons as Viserion turned back around in an attempt to flee, but it was no use trying. Rhaegal slammed against Viserion and gripped tightly on the rear of his body and tail. The two dragons thrashed, desperately working to keep flying steadily while battling each other at the same time. Rhaegal's greater size gave him the advantage against his brother, but it made him a larger target.

Rhaegal tried to attack at Viserion's wings to cripple him, but Viserion constantly bashed his head into Rhaegal's keeping him away from attacking.

All Jon could do was hold on as tight as he could and pray he would not fall to his death. As Rhaegal and Viserion bashed each other, Jon caught glimpse of the Night King drawing his curved ice sword from his back. "Oh fuck! Rhaegal, let go!" Rhaegal did as he was ordered and released Viserion from his clutches and put some distance between the two of them. The Night King returned his blade to his back and locked eyes with Jon for moment. Jon would take no chances being near the Night King's weapons of ice. They were some of the only things lethal to the dragons and he'd killed Viserion with one shot.

'We have to find an angle he can't reach us at.' Jon thought as he thought of any direction that would work. He wouldn't be able to attack head on, there was no way he would be able to get in any kind of position as long as the he was the wouldn't be able to handle a collision like that. If he hadn't sent Ygris away he might've been able to get the advantage, but now he had no idea where she was and she had no idea where they were. It would just have to be him and Rhaegal. Any attack from the sides would be evadable as long as Viserion could fly so violently and not worry about his rider. 'That leaves the only place possible would be from underneath.' If Jon could get under Viserion, he could use Longclaw and maybe stab the blade deep enough to kill him. That or he could lose his position and become the chased. But it was a chance he had to take.

The two dragons were flying directly over the Wall approaching the battle. Rhaegal dove down to gain some speed before rising back up, approaching Viserion from underneath. Jon tightened his grip on Rhaegal with his left hand while he drew Longclaw with the right. Rhaegal flew closer underneath Viserion, staying steady as to not let Jon lose his grip and fall to his death. 'Almost there.' Jon was nearly in reach of Viserion's belly region, but he had to get closer.

Gritting his teeth and tightening his grip on Longclaw, Jon prepared to thrust the sword up as hard as he could to pierce the dragon hide. With all of his might, Jon shot his sword up at the undead dragon. But Viserion gained altitude the moment the sword would have pierced him. Letting out horrific screech, Viserion kicked down and clawed at Rhaegal's back, scratching his skin and throwing him off balance. Rhaegal jerked about so much that Jon lost grip of Longclaw and the sword slipped from his hands. "NO!" Jon looked back at his sword and could still hear the Valyrian Steel sing as it flipped through the air, heading for the south side of the Wall in between the pass and the foot soldiers. It would be a miracle if anyone even noticed it.

Rhaegal turned his body to turn around and get Viserion away from him, but it was no use. Instead of pulling back and chasing them, Viserion and the Night King performed the same maneuver they did just moments ago. Viserion latched his talons into Rhaegal and began attacking at him. Jon was in a spot Viserion could not reach, but he was not the target. Viserion sank his ginormous teeth into Rhaegal's left wing and began to ravage at his elbow. There was a loud snap followed by Rhaegal letting out a roar like Viserion made when he was struck by the lance of ice.

Viserion released Rhaegal and began to fly up higher above them. At least, that's what Jon thought. But actually, Rhaegal was falling to the ground and fast. They passed over the Wall to the south side and were set to land in nothing but hills. "Rhaegal!" Jon tightened his grip on his dragon's back and the ground came closer and closer, Rhaegal desperately trying to regain his balance. Jon failed to contain a scream just before the dragon crashed hard into the ground, sliding forward a great distance. The force of the impact nearly threw Jon off, but his grip was so tight it would probably crush a man's skull. It wasn't until Rhaegal slid over a small ridge in the snow that Jon was thrown off of the dragon and fell hard into a deep patch of snow that cushioned his fall.

Jon's vision faded between darkness and blurry and his chest was in pain. He found strength within him to stand up and the pain faded. His vision restored itself as he looked around to see where he was and where the dragon landed. Jon found himself about a mile away from the eastern ground forces. In between him and them was Rhaegal lying in the ground, covered in snow and dirt, and not moving. "Rhaegal!" Jon moved as fast as he could to his dragon, worried that he paid the ultimate price for Jon's mistake.

By the time Jon reach the dragon's body, a small group of riders were headed in his direction.

"Rhaegal!" Jon brought himself to the head of the dragon to check for any signs of life. The dragon opened his eyes and showed them to be the gold he always knew. To Jon's relief, Rhaegal was awake and breathing, but in a great deal of pain. His wing was broken and he'd just crashed to the ground from thousands of feet in the air. Jon's attack on the Night King had failed. "The Night King." Jon shot around and scanned the sky when he realized he'd completely forgotten about Viserion and the Night King.

Jon thought they would've been hiding in the clouds again, but instead they were out for all to see, flying at the north side of the west part of the Wall. Without Rhaegal, Jon couldn't keep Viserion away from the battle and could only watch.

Viserion has unleashed his fire onto the west Wall and was doing far more destruction than the other four dragons did when they first brought down the Wall. The four thousand archers stationed up there had absolutely no chance of escape. The Wall began to crumble slowly and the ground shook stronger than an earthquake. Through the sounds of the Wall crashing down, Jon could only imagine what the screams of those falling to their deaths sounded like. He failed his task, and now the living had to suffer for it.

By the time the west wall had fallen, Viserion was starting to move towards the east wall and preparing to repeat the destruction.

From the distance, Jon saw the blue light form in Viserion's mouth. But then the sky erupted in a familiar screech and Ygris shot out of the clouds and breathed fire onto Viserion's head. The force of her fire knocked the undead dragon aside from his course and angered him enough to begin a chase and forget about the Wall. She was luring him away and giving him something to focus on instead of the battle. But Ygris wouldn't stand a chance alone.

"Your grace!" Jon turned to see the group of riders arriving just now. Leading them was Beric Dondarrion and his Uncle Benjen who dismounted immediately. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine, but Rhaegal… he can't fly. I don't think he can even move from here."

Benjen turned to one of the riders who came with him, a brother of the Watch. "Ride for the camps as fast you can and bring back four maesters with you who have any knowledge of dragons and healing."

The brother nodded and spurred his horse to ride as fast as he could.

Jon placed a hand over Rhaegal's head and stroked at the warm scales, hoping that it might bring comfort to the dragon.

"Jon," Benjen said, "you need to see this."

Jon turned his head to see Benjen and the other riders looking to where the Wall collapsed. Faintly, Jon could see the dead passing the Wall and entering the south.

Benjen turned back to Jon. "As much I know you don't want to, we have to leave the dragon here and join the battle."

"I can't leave-"

"Bran will watch over him. But you need to get to another dragon and back in the sky. Drogon is in too much pain to fly, but Lyarras isn't, and she's guarding your wife at the camps."

As much as it pained Jon, he did have to leave Rhaegal. He turned to the dragon and knelt down to his head. "I will come back, I promise."

Rhaegal gave a soft growl as Jon got up and joined Benjen.

"By the way," Benjen said as he snapped his fingers to another one of his brothers of the Watch, "you should be careful not to lose this again." The man of the Watch brandished Longclaw from his side and tossed it to Benjen who returned it to Jon.

"How did you find it?" Jon asked as he sheathed it in it scabbard.

"We didn't, Bran did."

"Remind me to thank him." Jon mounted an empty horse that was brought with the other riders and Benjen mounted his.

"It's six miles of deep snow from here to the camps. The longer we're down here, the longer your other dragon has to fight the Night King alone up there." Benjen motioned up the clouds where Ygris was speeding by while being chased by Viserion. "The dead have a way past our main defense, we need to take the offense now. The Dorneish and Reach forces are closest, but their numbers are too little. The Men of the Stormlands and the Wildlings are their best hope of reinforcements."

"What about the rest of you?" Jon asked.

"I'll ride back to the Fiery Hand and bring them into battle." Beric informed.

"And you're on the ground now, nephew." Benjen reminded. "You need protection even if your better than everyone here. We'll escort you to the camps."

Jon nodded and looked over to the men who wouldn't be coming with him. "Good luck to you all." All of them spurred their horses and took off to their respective destinations. Jon could only hope that he could get to the camps before the dead. If the western forces fell, then there might not be any camps to return to.

* * *

Edric

Witnessing the collapse of the Wall from the head of the western division of the ground forces was nothing like Edric thought it would be. When the King and Queen returned from their journey to bring down the Wall, Edric imagined it as a spectacle to watch in a marvelous but terrifying way. Watching the Wall collapse and hearing four thousand screams turn silent was horrifying, nothing that Edric could've imagined possible. Not only that, but much of the fallen rubble had tumbled onto the western battlements, killing many of the soldiers posted their and opening up the pass.

Edric had five thousand at his command, alongside another fifteen, standing behind him and he could feel their discontentment. He would be lying to himself if he denied feeling the same. They were all preparing themselves to fight the dead if they broke through the infantry lines, but none of them were ready to witness the instantaneous deaths of so many.

The feelings only worsened when the undead dragon flew over to the east side of the Wall to do again what damaged it caused on the west. But great waves of relief came over everyone when the King's white dragon shot down from the sky and attacked it. The undead dragon switched its attention to the white dragon and began a chase, leaving the east wall intact.

But all of the unnerving feelings increased again when a few signs of movement at the rubble turned into many. Knowing it to be impossible for any to survive such a catastrophe, Edric knew that it had to be the army of the dead coming through their new opening in the Wall, and it was far more than he thought it would be. At first it looked like over ten thousand, then twenty, and the number didn't go down.

"Lord Edric," a lord of the Reach said, "we need to take defensive formations now!"

"No," Edric told them, "the King said that going on the defensive never works in a situation like this. We need to bring the fight to them before they can surround and overwhelm us!"

"But My Lord, that's madness!"

Charging to meet an army of dead soldiers that could turn the living into one of them? Of course it was mad. "It's the best chance we've got."

The two lords looked each other questioningly before both nodding at Edric. "We'll order our men to ready for a charge." They rode away to return to the heads of their armies.

Edric turned to face his men and saw them turning from panic to the fury of battle. They were itching to fight and so was he. "Men of Dorne!" Edric shouted. "This night we cross swords with the likes of evil itself! Don't charge into the fight to die for your country! Charge into the fight to live for it! Fight and live for friends, your family, and for yourselves!" Edric drew both First Light and Dawn from their scabbards and raised them high into the air. The Dornish under his command raised their spears and shields with their lord, and cheered for him and themselves.

Edric turned around and faced the oncoming horde of dead men. He took a moment and looked down at his Dayne surcoat. Sewn by his wife Neela before he left, Edric wore it over his breastplate rather than under it like many did. "Not one tear, I promise." Edric said as he charged and led his men forward to bring the might of Dorne to meet the dead. The feeling of charging into battle with thousands behind him made Edric feel like he was leading a stampede or an avalanche straight to obliterate worthless creatures. But these creatures he saw felt no pain, wielded weapons, and could turn those they kill into more meat for their army. Nothing could bring greater glory than fighting such a force.

Edric let out a battle cry with his forces as the dead let out what one would think was their response. Raising First Light in front of his body and Dawn low to his side, Edric took his lasts moments to enjoy the peace before the fight. He locked eyes with a jawless skeleton wielding a chipped axe and knew that would be his first kill.

The wight raised his excuse for a weapon in a wild style of attack but was met with Dawn slashing through its empty skull and extinguishing the light of its eyes. The sounds of thousands of weapons clashing and attacking sang through the air. Every time Edric cut down one bloodless foe another would take its place, different and more vicious than the last.

Despite that, Edric let his skill guide First Light and Dawn to cut down every foe that he faced. The Valyrian steel and star metal that made his swords swiftly sliced through the cold monsters that came into their path. But one stray swing trapped First Light into a large wooden club held by an equally large Wilding wight. He was no giant, but the wight was just shy of being the size of the Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane. Edric freed First light from the grip of the wood just as the wight raised his club up to swung at him. Edric jumped to the side to be clear of the club's path and would've thrusted Dawn into the wight's body, but another half decomposed wight wielding a Stark shield bashed into Edric's body knocking him backwards. The wight wielding the shield swung a longsword at Edric, the blade barely missing Edric's body, and the tip just cutting through Edric's surcoat.

Edric took notice and became filled with rage. "You cunt!" Ducking underneath the giant wight's club, Edric thrusted both of his swords into the shield wielding wight's body. He then tore them out, completely severing the wight's body from its legs. Using the momentum of his attack, Edric ducked down and severed the giant wight's leg with both swords. As the great body fell onto its back, Edric parried another wight's axe with First Light while stabbing Dawn into the giant wight's body. The moment the blue light left the eyes of the wight, Edric had already pulled Dawn out of the wight's body and blocked another weapon, the fury of battle flowing through his blood.

The ranks of undead men were starting to be joined by undead animals climbing past the rubble of ice. Snow bears, stags, and dire wolves. Dozens of each were shoving aside many wights to get to the front of the battle, not caring how much damage they did to those that should have been their allies.

Edric had just decapitated three wights at once with First Light when he heard a strange snarl that sounded like it was coming straight for him. Edric looked around and saw a large dire wolf charging straight for him. Its gray fur was stained with blood from multiple stab wounds and the flesh of its lips was gone exposing all of the teeth. The speed of the dire wolf was so fast that Edric didn't have enough time to properly take a stance against such a creature. The wolf leapt into the air straight for Edric and opened its jaws, ready to sink them into whatever flesh they could. Edric tripped backwards and fell onto his back, now unable to evade an attack. Out of sheer reflex, Edric raised Dawn above him and the blade entered the mouth of the dire wolf right as it landed. The creature's body collapsed on Edric, motionless and truly deceased.

With the strength he could muster, Edric shoved the dire wolf's body off of him, though it felt like shoving a full-grown horse instead. Then again, the dire wolf was the size of a full-grown horse. Pressing a boot to the dire wolf's head and gripping the hilt of Dawn, he yanked the sword out of the jaw of the great beast. He shook off his brief feelings of panic and returned to the fight at hand.

But even with the force of twenty thousand Dornish and Reach soldiers, it wasn't enough to hold off the dead. Their strength and numbers were beginning to be outmatched. The dead that were crossing through the rubble were nearly doubled and the lines of the living made were spread too thin. Luckily for them, they weren't alone. A great host of soldiers made of the Wildlings, Riverlands, and Stormlands charged from the central force of foot soldiers to join the rest of their allies and hold off the growing force of the dead.

They blocked off the dead's only way to flank the infantry lines and catapults to the east of the battle. The lines on the west side were too thin and if passed would leave the army vulnerable.

Edric fell back from the center of the battle and pushed through the living and the dead to the west, rallying a great deal of Dornish, Wildlings, and men of the Reach to fortify the lines.

But by the time they got there, a small army of wights-no more than a couple thousand-pushed through. But instead of attacking the sides, they continued to advance west.

Edric didn't understand until he saw where their destination was. "The camps." The dead were going after the maesters, healers, and the children to add to the ranks of their army. Edric turned to face the men that followed him. "Defend the camps!" He charged through what he could before breaking through the armies and chasing after the wights. Though he and those following him ran as fast as they could, the dead had no fatigue in them and had a great head start. They wouldn't intercept them in time. Edric's only hope was that either the forces that retreated could hold off long enough, or that they could run faster than the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone knows how to put gifs onto chapters, tell how  
> SHOW ME THE MONEY!


	70. The Storm Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 is here! A week after I said it would be... oops. This takes longer than I thought it would and would've taken longer had I not had half the chapter already done when I posted the first part. So I will not give an estimate when the third and final part of the Storm will be posted, but I can promise that it will be AH MAY ZAHNG! Once again, Big shotout to my Awesome Beta the Hope Lions!
> 
> Also, Be sure to go back and check out the first part, I posted the link tosome some music at the beginning of the chapter that actually fits the start of the battle and a link to a gif I made since I don't know how to put gifs in the chapter.

Rickon

"Will she be alright?" Rickon asked the maester as who tended to Lyanna Mormont's arm inside his tent. He was standing next to Ser Jorah he watched with worry over his niece.

The maester had just stopped the bleeding and wrapped her wounds in bandages, but Lyanna looked very pale and her face was covered in sweat. "I'm afraid she's lost a great amount of blood, my lord. And her wound is only making things worse. I am heavy with healing chains and have done what I can, but it will be a miracle if she lives."

Ser Jorah looked distraught at the news. But neither he nor Rickon had the time to dwell on it as a raven outside of the tent began cawing annoyingly, gaining everyone's attention that heard.

Rickon and Ser Jorah left the tent and saw the raven perched on another across from the maester's. The moment they stepped outside, it flew into the air and joined a great flock that was moving east to the edge of the camp, cawing out.

"Somethings wrong." Rickon said. "Be on your guard, Ser Jorah." The bear knight placed a hand over the pommel of Snow as he followed Rickon passed many of the tents.

They were joined by many of the women and children who fled from the battlements with them and were also curious as to what the disturbance was.

When Rickon and Ser Jorah came out of the camp to the edge, they weren't in the least bit shocked to see that a battalion consisting of about two thousand wights were headed straight for them. Behind the dead was an even larger force of the living breaking off from the main army and chasing after them. But they were too far away to catch up.

Some of the women and other children began to panic, but not Rickon. He was afraid when he faced the tens of thousands of wights charging for him at the very start of the battle, but he wasn't afraid of just a couple of them. "How long would they have before they get here?" Rickon asked.

"Not long. They dead don't tire so they can run as fast as they can."

Rickon took another look at the men chasing after the dead. They weren't gaining on them, but the alos weren't losing any distance. "We need to form lines."

"What?" Ser Jorah asked.

"We have more than a thousand of the archers from the front lines. If we gather our strength quickly, we might just be able to hold them off long enough for the real soldiers to get here." Rickon turned and faced Ser Jorah. I want you and some others to begin rallying as many archers as you can. I want everyone with their bows and arrows they brought with them from the front lines ready to make a stand. We'll need spears and shields too."

"My lord Rickon, we won't last long against the dead." Ser Jorah argued.

"But there's no where we can't run that the dead can't follow. Now go while we still have time."

Jorah took one last look at the oncoming army before nodding to Rickon and ran to the camps shouting at all who could hear. "Archers defend the camp! Spears and shields!"

While Ser Jorah went on carrying out his order, Rickon had something he himself wanted to do that could provide greater support for the camps. Running at a quick pace, Rickon made his way through the camps to heading for the center, all the while doing as he ordered Ser Jorah to do. Some of who heard him were stricken with fear while others were heading for the front of the camp carrying bows, arrows, spears, and shields like ordered.

When he reached the center, Rickon found Bran, Sansa, and Daenerys under the guard of Ghost and Meera Reed. Bran's eyes were pure white since he was warging into hundreds of ravens. But as Rickon approached them all, Bran returned to himself.

"The archers are almost assembled." Bran informed.

"I hoped as much," Rickon told him, "but there's not enough of us. We need more. Can you warg into Lyarras and Drogon?"

"I'm afraid I can't. Only Jon can since he has the blood of Valyrians in him. Besides, Drogon in too much pain to fight and Lyarras is protecting him."

As disappointing as it was, Rickon didn't have time to dwindle on the fact that two of the most powerful forces of destruction the living had were out of the fight. "What about regular animals, can you warg into them?"

"Of course."

"Are there any big ones nearby that can kill?"

"I've brought a few with me, but I had to keep them far away from the camps so they wouldn't be hunted or attack the army. It will take a little while to bring them."

"Then what are you still talking to me for?"

Bran gave Rickon a small smile before returning to his warging state.

"Meera," Rickon said, "I need to ask you to fight with us. You're one of the few who really knows how. Ghost can keep Bran safe."

Meera tightened her grip on her spear and nodded silently. She left the company of the others and joined Rickon, but as they started to leave, Sansa spoke up.

"Rickon, where do you think you're going?" Sansa asked.

"Where do you think? To fend off the dead."

"You can't go out there, you'll die."

"And so will many others even if I don't."

Sansa quickly walked up to her brother and squeezed him in a tight hug, on the verge of tears. "I already lost you and the others once, I can't lose you all again."

Rickon returned the hug, wishing he didn't have to let go. "If I don't go, I might be the one who loses you." Sansa let go of her brother, looking more afraid than he had ever seen her before. Technically she should be joining them, but she wasn't a fighter of weapons, only politics. Each step Rickon took away from his family felt heavy with a sense of duty, but also courage.

Hurrying back to the outskirts of the camp with a bow in hand, Rickon and Meera joined other children, women, and even a few young maesters on their way to join the oncoming fight.

By the time the made it, most of the women and children were already forming lines under the guidance of a few elderly men that retreated with them.

Ser Jorah spotted Rickon and approached him, carrying a bow and only two arrows. "Lord Rickon," he said, "we've assembled all we could."

"How many?"

"Just over a thousand. And we only have enough dragonglass arrows to give two to each person."

The arrows were in short supply since most of them were left at the front battlements and a vast majority was given to the men stationed atop the Walls. It wasn't enough, but it was all they would get. "We can do this," Rickon assured him, "as long as we can hold them back long enough for the chasers to get here and save the maesters. If the maesters die, then many more will be added to the ranks of the dead and our healers will be gone, letting more of wounded die."

Ser Jorah shook his head at the reality of the situation. "So much death, and for what?" To Rickon's knowledge, no one knew the answer to that question. Whatever it was the dead were after, the living had no idea.

A young woman came up to Rickon and handed him two arrows to him and Meera, giving her a bow as well. Jorah led the way to their positions at the front of the lines with the rest of the archers that made up the first two rows. Behind them were the spears and shields, ready to step in front when needed. One of the few advantages they had was being uphill giving the living the higher ground.

With no one else to properly command them, Ser Jorah took charge of the defense. Though it wouldn't be much of one since everyone defending wasn't properly trained, and either too young or too old. There numbers were less than what they had at the front battlements since most who retreated went to their posts behind the infantry. "Archers!" he called out. "We only have two arrows each! Use them well! Knock!" All of the archers knocked their arrows to their bowstrings, most struggling from a state of panic. "Draw!" Out of since all of the bows were raised up, aiming at the dead. Before Ser Jorah could give the final command, a few arrows were released prematurely and come short of wights when they landed. "Loose!" The rest of the arrows fired on command, but even then, some were poorly released and didn't go any near as far as they should have. In the end just over half of what was shot probably hit something.

The dead that weren't hit by dragonglass arrows mindlessly ignored those around them that were and let out their cries of the undead. Speeding past them were some undead animals, mostly wolves and a few bears. But leading the vanguard of them all were three undead direwolves, the one in front familiar to Rickon by its white and auburn fur even though it was stained with blood. The body riddled with stab wounds and two daggers stuck in its body.

"Summer." Rickon whispered to himself, oblivious to Ser Jorah's order. It took the Bear Knight a shove in the shoulder for Rickon to snap out of his quick daze and knock his next arrow. When the order to draw was given, Rickon kept his eyes on Summer who was charging for the center of the lines. He kept his eyes on the path Summer was running found the spot to release his arrow that it would find its mark. But he began to feel his hand shaking with the arrow between his fingers. He knew Summer was gone, but he felt something within him fighting back not to fire.

"Loose!"

The arrows were shot, far better aimed the final time. But the moment Rickon released his arrow, he knew it would miss. The dragonglass arrow grazed through Summer's mane and instead hit a wolf that was next to him. Though Rickon made a kill, he missed his target.

"Spears and Shields!" Ser Jorah called and other men echoed. The archers stepped back and let all who carried the tools for an infantry wall take their places. With no arrows left, bows were set aside for spears which were plentiful in supply along with various other dragonglass weapons.

The previous archers got behind the lines of infantry and angled their spears to the dead, holding as strong as they could with what little strength they had.

Ser Jorah stood at the front of the lines, Snow drawn from its scabbard and ready to cut through whatever came at him.

All there was now was the wait for the dead to attack them.

But one thing that no one would have expected expect for Rickon would have guessed happened that gave everyone a moral they were missing to overcome the dead. From behind the lines of spears and shields, a heard of stags leapt high over them and brandished their antlers like lances. Everyone turned around and saw a pack of wolves and bears charging through the camps, making their way to attack the dead. Some of the infantry parted waited ways from the animals to get through while the flock of ravens in the sky dove down to join the rest of the attack. Being just birds, there wasn't much they could do except become and obstruction which is exactly what they succeeded at.

The front lines of the dead were covered with ravens and their movements become halted as they tried to swat the birds away. This gave the living exactly what they needed for the dead to be stalled long enough for the reinforcements to intercept them.

If the infantry protecting the camps were proper soldiers, now would be the time to go on the offensive. But they were nothing more than children younger than fourteen and very elderly folk. The only ones who weren't in those categories were Ser Jorah and a few women.

But even with the support of the animals, there were a few dozen of the dead who slipped by and continued the attack. Even Summer and the wolves that followed him were unfazed by the attacks of the crows and tore through whatever came at them. By the time they reached the wall of shields and spears, only a few wolves were caught in the path of dragonglass and killed. But the rest of them broke through the shields and began to attack those that were behind them. It didn't last long as they were quickly killed, but Summer was not one of them. In fact, he and the other direwolves that were with him ignored the infantry and darted into the camps.

Rickon noticed this and would've guessed that they would begin attacking the maesters and healers, but the direwolves past three of them without a second glance. If they weren't after them, then there was probably only one person they were after. Rickon turned to Meera, beginning to worry. "Bran's in trouble!"

Meera's eyes widened as she grabbed Rickon's shoulder and pulled him out of line. The two of them began to run back to the center of camp as fast as the could through the snow.

* * *

Sansa

The silence of what once was a quiet night ended the moment the three horn blasts rung out. Since then, the night had been nothing but battle cries, dragon roars, raven calls, and death. The sounds of war. It was all just echoes from the battle at the Wall at first, but after the number in the camps grew to mount a defense, the noise got closer and the sound of an unearthly screeching became distinct.

For Sansa, it was unbearable that listening was all she could do. She wasn't a fighter, couldn't be a fighter. She didn't have the stomach for being a part of battles and fighting. But even if she had drilled with the others when Jon had decided it to be, her skill would probably have been lower than Rickon's.

Bran had no chance in combat as a cripple, but his that didn't matter since every animal around was his weapon. All he had to do was sit in his chair next to Sansa and Daenerys with his eyes white like the clouds.

Sansa started to worry that maybe defense of the camps was futile. She pictured Rickon appearing from the tents, covered in fresh blood and his eyes turned blue the same as Jon's were that night.

Sansa snapped out of her distress when she felt Daenerys's hand grab hers. "Don't worry," She said, "I have not a single doubt that they'll win."

"I just can't seem to rid my mind of the thought of what will happen if they lose." Sansa told her.

"That's why we have to keep our faith stronger than our fear. A dragon does not fear even the gods, and neither should a direwolf."

Sansa chuckled lightly at Daenerys's comment. "I've always felt I was more of a Tully than a Stark."

Sansa was cut short when a great screeching erupted from the sky. She and Daenerys looked up to the clouds and saw Ygris emerge with Viserion right behind her. But the smaller white dragon immediately performed a maneuver that halted her place in the air, letting Viserion speed by. She chased after him and let out a burst of flames, but they had no effect and were stopped right before they would've hit the Night King. The two dragons ascended back into the clouds, out of sight but for the flashing lights of fire.

Afterwards, Bran returned to himself, gasping deeply for air. "The dragons," he said out of breath, "We have to get to Drogon and Lyarras. Some wights broke past and are coming for me."

Ghost stood a few paces away from them, facing the direction the fighting was at. He was snarling and baring his teeth, as if he was about to attack an approaching enemy.

Without anytime to question, Bran returned to warging and his motionless state.

Not wanting to see if Bran was wrong, Sansa let go of Daenerys's hand and grabbed onto the handles of Bran's chair. Daenerys led the way past through the camp to the dragons, being that it might be best if she was the first one they saw. Ghost walked backwards, keeping his eyes on anything that might try and sneak behind them.

Many of the maesters began to flee in the same direction, but having to push a wheelchair through fresh snow slowed them down immensely.

Ghost started to bark furiously and Sansa felt shivers run through her body. She turned her head and saw three wight direwolves bigger than Ghost halted in their tracks, making noises that sounded like snarls mixed with cracking ice. The largest of them all looked slightly familiar to Sansa. She realized that there was only one direwolf she knew of that's fate was like this wolf's appearance.

Sansa and Daenerys resumed pushing Bran's chair through the snow with greater haste. They weren't far from the dragons. But by the time they resumed retreating, the three wight direwolves rushed forward and barked a haunting sound as Ghost rushed to meet them. The red eyed direwolf lunged into the air and collided with two of the wight direwolves, but Summer slipped by and bore his dark grey teeth at Sansa and Daenerys, setting his blue eyes on Bran.

Summer jumped into the air, but dozens of ravens flew down from the air and knocked him away. Instead of hitting Bran, Summer's body collided with Sansa. She fell to the ground and quietly crawled away from Summer as the ravens kept him occupied by mercilessly tearing through the fur on the direwolf's rotting flesh.

Sansa kept crawling away from Summer and quick as she could, her mind in a state of panic. She couldn't get back to Daenerys and Bran since Summer was in-between her and them and thrashing violently enough that one stray attack would tear a limb off. "Daenerys, keep going!" Sansa shouted as Daenerys pushed Bran through the snow with all of her might.

A loud whimper sounded and Sansa saw one of the wight direwolves sinking its teeth into Ghost's rear left leg. The other one bashed into Ghost's body, knocking back and unconscious.

"Sansa!" Rickon's voice shouted. A dragonglass spear appeared and rapidly sank into the torso of the direwolf that bit Ghost. Meera and Rickon appeared from where they had just come from, Meera having drawn a sword to replace the spear she just used.

The other direwolf growled low as it faced Rickon and Meera, preparing for them to make the first move. But when Sansa got up to her feet, the fleshless skull of the direwolf turned and the blue eyes stared directly into hers.

"Sansa, run!" Rickon shouted.

Without hesitating, Sansa turned tail, lifted the hem of her dress, and ran as fast as she could, not looking behind her. She let fear pick up and carry her feet to wherever they could, feeling the undead direwolf right behind her. Every one of her senses was in a panic and her thoughts racing as fast as she was. Her current state made her not pay attention to which direction she was running, only to taking the sharpest turns, trying to lose the wolf. Twice the direwolf crashed into tents and it gave Sansa a lead, but its speed quickly closed it.

Sansa felt a great force slam onto her back and she fell hard into the snow, yelping out. Memories of the riot in King's Landing filled her mind and the feeling of the rapers had returned, making her feel helpless once again. Sansa tried to crawl forward, whimpering as a large paw pressed down on her back, pinning her. The direwolf growled its unearthly sound as it brandished its teeth right next to her ear. It opened its jaws and let out a loud snarl, but the noise was met with the cry of a soldier that stabbed a sword down the throat of the creature.

The direwolf's body fell to the side and the weight lifted from Sansa's body. She looked up and couldn't be happier to see who saved her.

"Are you hurt, my lady?" Edric asked as he offered his hand to her.

Sansa shook her head as her fear was replaced with relief.

Edric smiled and lifted her off the ground. He was surprised when Sansa tightly hugged him but didn't resist returning it. "It's alright Sansa," he assured her, "we arrived just in time."

Sansa was so overjoyed that she neared tears as her breathing calmed down. She always dreamed of being saved by a knight one day, and now her dream had come true for a second time. She loosened her hug on Edric and looked back at the direwolf who had Dawn still lodged in its mouth.

Edric let go of Sansa and knelt down to the direwolf, grabbing hold of Dawn and pulling it free. "Were there any others that made it past?" Edric asked.

By the gods, Sansa completely forgot about Summer. Before she could speak, the loud screeching of the dragons in the camp shook the air and a quick flash of light followed after.

* * *

Daenerys

The moment Sansa left her sight, Daenerys used every bit of her strength to get Bran away from the direwolf that nearly pounced on him. The last thing she heard was Rickon yelling for Sansa to run away. Pushing Bran's chair through snow was difficult by herself, but thankfully a pair of fleeing maesters saw her and gave their assistance. They were much stronger than her, making pushing Bran's chair go by faster.

When they reached the clearing that Drogon and Lyarras were in, Daenerys saw that she was the only one with the idea of hiding by the dragons for protection. While there were five maesters tending to Drogon who was still unconscious, there were large crowds of healers rushing to get to where the dead weren't yet attacking.

Wheeling Bran right next to Drogon, Daenerys knelt down to her child's head, worried with every bit of her soul that he would not wake up. Memories of when Drogo died from his festering wound flashed in her mind. She'd been too stubborn to realize that Drogo would die, but that didn't let her believe that Drogon would follow the same fate. 'He's the strongest of them all. He won't let himself die like this.'

A sudden growling snapped Daenerys's attention from Drogon. Looking behind her, she saw the dire wolf that was swarmed by ravens before had followed her. The ravens had failed to stop him, but they managed to tear off half the dead flesh of his face. He barred his teeth and let out a nasty sounding set of barks at her, but he was given a reply by Lyarras blocked his path to Bran and let out a great roar.

The dire wolf lunged forward with great speed, most likely to get past Lyarras before she could react. But her size was not as big and slow as Rhaegal and Drogon. Thrusting her neck like a spear, Lyarras clamped her jaws onto the dire wolf's body. She thrashed him in the air a while before tearing the dire wolf in half. The rear legs flew off into the camp, but the upper body landed not too far away from Lyarras. As if not being affected by the damaged just experienced, the dire wolf began to pathetically crawl, advancing to Bran.

Rickon had finally caught up to the dire wolf and looked horrified at what he saw. "Summer," he muttered.

Lyarras opened her jaws again, ready to finish what she started.

"Lyarras no!" Rickon shouted. The large blue dragon looked at Rickon questioningly. The young Stark boy slowly walked forward to the dire wolf's body with his spear in hand, afraid and sad. "I'll do it." As he got closer to the body, the dire wolf began to thrash around, as if knowing what was about to become of him.

Daenerys saw the spear beginning to shake in Rickon's hands and tears welling in his eyes. He pointed the spear head at the dire wolf, but the state he was in said that he didn't want to kill it. He had love for the creature, one that kept him from finishing the job. Daenerys remembered when she was in the position with Drogo in his vegetative state that was her fault. But it was love that made her end his life, or at least what she was tricked into thinking what was life.

Rickon yelled as he sank the spear into the dire wolf's neck, causing it to whimper out. As the blue faded from its eyes, there was a brief moment that they became amber before lifeless. Rickon stepped back from what he did and fell to his knees crying.

Daenerys walked over and knelt down beside him as he let out his emotions.

"It's not fair." He croaked out.

"It never is." Daenerys told him as she gave him a gentle hug, sharing the hurt of his spirit.

"My Lord Stark," a man's voice came. Rickon and Daenerys looked over and saw Edric Dayne with Meera and Sansa who was unharmed.

"Sansa!" Rickon got up as fast as he could and tightly hugged his sister who did the same to him.

While they had their moment, Meera walked over to Daenerys and helped her up. "Is Bran alright?" she asked.

"Unharmed and still Bran." Daenerys assured her. Meera looked relieved to hear that.

"Your Grace," Edric said, "We've successfully fended off the dead that attacked."

"Excellent work, My Lord."

"I've ordered the little ones to fall back into the camps. There are a few wounded, and sadly some that we couldn't save in time." Edric's eyes fell to the ground, ashamed that he let any die.

Daenerys's heart weighed when she heard that. 'In times of peace, sons bury their fathers. But in times of war, fathers bury their sons.' "You came as fast as you could, and thanks to those who gave their lives we were protected and not more soldiers for the Night King."

Edric nodded in agreement, but still felt guilt that it happened. "My men will form a proper defense should the dead try another attack."

"The will," Meera said, "As long as there's a weakened dragon and the Three Eyed Raven here, they'll try again."

A wildling appeared from within the camps, rushing to Edric. "Lord Dayne! One of the warg scouts just reported that King Jon is on his way here. But he also said that there's over eighty-thousand of the dead coming through the collapse."

'Perfect.' Daenerys thought. 'If Jon can mount Lyarras, he can provide support from above as long as Ygris keeps the Night King busy.'

"Did the warg see how far the cavalry was from the dead?" Edric asked.

* * *

Jaime

Screaming, for the past few minutes all Jaime had heard was the screaming of the Dothraki. When he faced them at the Blackwater Rush, he'd felt fear and disbelief when he heard and saw the Dothraki Screamers on the horizon. But being in the middle of it all was far different. They volume was immensely greater, and he thought he would go deaf, but energy the noise brought the fury of battle rushing into his blood. Even after they suffered losses from the undead dragon's attack, they did not falter and recovered quickly. He was no Dothraki, but as the force of sixty-seven thousand mounted horses charged at the dead, he couldn't help but let the world here him roar like the lion he was.

When the cavalry first received the signal from the wargs with them to charge, Jaime managed to keep his spear tightly tucked under his shoulder so he could have a firm grip on the reigns of his horse. But now that they were closing in, he let the reigns rest on his golden hand and used his legs to keep steady. His thighs were burning from the constant use of his muscles.

Jaime's knuckles whitened on the grip on his spear as the Dothraki brandished their own and their curved arakh swords. The knights of the Vale, Lannister forces, Karstark riders of the North, and the Martell lancers all kept a tight formation while the Dothraki were spread out. Jaime was told by one of them that they do it to make them harder targets. It didn't look organized or fashionable, but it was key to them winning their battles.

What none of them were expecting were the dead to have their own mounted soldiers. But there were hardly any horses coming to meet them. The wights rode on large snow bears, direwolves bigger than Jon's, stags, and mammoths. There were undead giants atop their mammoths, but also a dozen or so wights with long spears. The mammoths rode at the head of the dead's charge and begun to swing their tusks from side to side.

Some of the Dothraki switched from arakh to bow and stood on their saddles, knocking their arrows. Nothing stood between the two armies and both were forced to engage by a wall of ice on one side and a wall of burning trees on the other. Many arrows were released into the air without any command given. Some of the undead cavalry fell, but the numbers were near equal. The living had more, but the lethalness of the undead was greater.

When the two forces met, some of the Dothraki and their horses were swept from the ground into the air by the mammoth and the strength of their tusks. Both forces had their equal shares of cutting through each other. Horses were torn from head to hoof by claw and antler alike while the dead mounts were speared deep into the body, flinging their riders from their backs. To counter the mammoths, the Knights of the Vale threw their spears at the mammoths. Some of them found their mark on the great beasts while others only hit the riders.

The First thing that Jaime's spear came into contact was a wight riding a snow bear twice the size of his horse. The spear went straight through the rider and into the passage with him. The passengers were only bones and fell to pieces when the dragonglass cut what it could.

The snow bear the wights rode on was killed by another spear belonging to a rider behind Jaime. Having just used his, Jaime drew Widow's Wail and slashed at what he could while keeping himself from falling from his horse. The Valyrian Steel blade cut through rotten flesh and cold bones with hardly any resistance.

The path of Jaime's horse was set to ride past an oncoming mammoth that was knocking horses and riders aside with no problem. If Jaime wanted to get past it, he would have to time his speed at the right moment so the horse would pass the moment the mammoth swung to the other side.

The giant tusked swooshed through the air, barely missing Jaime's horse, but a spear from a riding wight stuck into the horse's neck. The front legs buckled as the horse whine, throwing Jaime off and crashing into a running wight. Widow's wail slipped through his fingers, but he was quick enough to draw his dragonglass dagger and stab it into the right eye of the wight. He scurried to his feet and search for Widow's Wail, or any weapon that had a longer reach that he could use. Sheathing his dagger and picking up an arakh from the snow, Jaime had to immediately parry a wight's spear coming right for him. The design of the arakh was too different from what he was used to. The weight and shape threw the timing off of his parry. The spearhead grazed Jaime's breastplate just barely before Jaime swung the curved blade into the wight's collar bone. The blade wasn't Valyrian steel, but it cut just as well.

While Jaime had to keep his focus on the enemies coming at him, he also had to keep his attention on his allies coming from behind him. Already there were men who were just killed risen back with blue eyes and blood staining their furs and armor. Even Jaime's horse had risen up from the dead and began to act something worse than rabid. But its reanimation was ended as quick as it started when a dragonglass spear pierced the horse's torso.

The cavalry of the living was beginning to make its turn outwards to get clear of the dead and make another charge, and Jaime couldn't let himself be left behind. Jaime followed the path of the horses that were turning northwards, cutting through what he could, very rarely making a kill with steel that had no magical effect against the dead. Even though he skill with his left hand in swordplay was average to any soldier, it was still could enough to tangle with the dead. The arakh only pushed his current limits to a point that he felt that he was improving by the minute.

Jaime managed to join some five other men who'd lost their horses. Three of them wore Karstark tunics over their armor, but only one of them seemed vaguely familiar to him and wore black when the others wore brown. The other, to Jaime's luck, was a Martell bannerman wielding a Valyrian sword Jaime had never seen before. The blade was nearly as wide as Ice, but the length was that of a bastard sword. Together the five of them maneuvered as best they could through the dead all the while keeping a quick pace.

By the time the last of the horses made it out of the shuffle with the dead and were preparing their second attack, Jaime's small group was set upon by and undead giant wielding a large tree branch as a club.

"Watch out!" One of the Karstark men shouted as the club came swinging down. Only he and Jaime were able to duck down in time and avoid the club. The other three men were swept off the ground and let out painful screams as the sailed into a crowd of wights that maniacally began to kill them. Jaime was on his back when the surviving Karstark soldier thrusted his spear into the belly of the giant. It toppled backwards and landed on the ground with a small boom.

Jaime felt relieved that the giant was brought down, but it all left him when the Karstark soldier in black pointed his spear at Jaime. The soldier's face was filled with great rage and disgust towards Jaime. "You killed my brothers, Torrhen and Harrion, Kingslayer."

"Harald Karstark," Jaime muttered, "Go ahead and claim your revenge then. There's no one here but and the dead, and that spear will keep me from coming back to haunt you."

Harald raised his spear up and quickly thrusted it at Jaime's face. Only, he missed completely and the spear went above Jaime's head. From behind, Jaime heard the spear hit something and a strange growl. He looked behind him and saw a wight that had almost crawled to him with a rusty dagger.

Harald pulled his spear up and grabbed Jaime by his breastplate and pulled him up as well. "Don't make me regret that, Kingslayer."

Jaime followed closely to Harald as the dashed through an opening and out of the dead's path. "Why?" He asked as they began to run to rejoin the other men. "You could've let the dead have me to give you an excuse."

"The dead are more important than my revenge. And I am a Northerner, not a Lannister."

Harald's words stung Jaime to his core. He knew that Harald betrayed the Starks and sided with the Boltons. But even after doing something like that it seemed he still had more honor than Jaime did.

"I thought you took the black." Jaime said.

"I did, but I won't let my daughter lead a charge at sixteen years old. The Karstarks will follow me for the battle."

"Ser Jaime, Lord Harald!" A Knight of the Vale came galloping at them with two horses whose riders didn't make it back with them. "We're nearly ready for another attack, but the mammoths are too strong and too many."

"Dispatch a force of the best lancers and mounted archer to deal with them." Jaime ordered. "If those things make another attack like the first, we won't stand a chance for much longer." Jaime and Harald mounted the horses given to them, they had a battle to return to after all.

* * *

Gendry

There was never a moment to catch one's breath. The only thing Gendry had ever been a part of was tavern brawls, his encounter with the Gold Cloaks at the beach at King's Landing, and a few bad customers at his shop. But being part of thousand men fighting the dead was a new experience. He stood alongside his men guarding the rear flank to the infantry, archers, and catapults. Every swing of his hammer was met with a body that felt like a stone wall despite the lack of weight the rotting corpses had. The dragonglass in the head of his hammer was effective from time to time, but only when it directly hit flesh.

Fighting alongside Ser Jasper Willem, Gendry found that he had a knack for battle given that men around him were injured and died, but he lived. The old knight was the only protection Gendry had in his blind spots his helmet created. Twice he saved him from attacks that would have be his meant his end. The added weight the antlers had tossed his head from side to side and nearly stabbed adjacent men in their heads.

As Gendry slammed his hammer down hard with all his strength onto a wight's skull, completely crushing it into small pieces, something slammed into his body from behind and knocked him down into the snow. The antlers of his helmet pierced through two wights and brought them down with him. Fed up with the problems the helmet was causing, Gendry slipped his head out and shook off whatever it was that fell on him. Tightly gripping the shaft of his hammer, Gendry rolled over and found a freshly turned wight clawing at his surcoat, ripping the black and yellow fabric apart. Gendry bashed the pommel of his hammer into the face of the wight. But it was a dragonglass halberd landing in its back that killed it.

Gendry was grabbed by what remained of his surcoat by Ser Jasper and hauled back to his feet. "Come on My Lord! The dead won't rest, and neither will we!" Ser Jasper swung his halberd at a charging wight and quickly to another that was right behind it. For a man well into his years, Ser Jasper was setting the bar high for Gendry.

Gendry didn't let himself rest as he returned to swinging his hammer at what dead he could. It was all had been doing since he began fighting. His body had great strength in it, but not the stamina for battle. His chest grew hot like the furnace of his forge the more he fought. The heat so much that he couldn't feel the cold winds of the winter night touch his skin.

"Giants charging!" Someone from behind shouted.

After the head of his hammer crushed a wight's ribcage and sent it plummeting to the ground in pieces, Gendry looked behind and saw twelve armored giants wielding axes with blades the size of wagon wheels charging forward, the ground shaking with every step they took.

The soldiers parted to avoid being kicked aside or stepped on, but followed the giants charge as soon they passed and joining the offensive. Wildlings, soldiers of the Stormlands and Riverlands raised their weapons to strike whatever dared to get in their way.

But the morale sank heavily when three of their living giants stopped dead in their tracks and collapsed. Moments later they all rose back up, but only to the knee as three White Walkers removed their spears of ice from the giants' chests. The spears sank so deep, it was like the Ironwood armor the giants wore was nothing but Ironwood parchment.

This was Gendry's first time ever seeing a White Walker. They were nothing like their soldiers. Skin paler than snow, and the eyes were like blue crystals of ice. Some of them had hair and they all looked like old men. All of them wore black armored that had the appearance as if it was made of black whicker.

With the ice weapons removed from their bodies, the three giants that fell immediately turned on their brethren and the rest of the living. Many attempted to kill them with the dragonglass weapons, but the Ironwood armor kept the giants safe, leaving their faces and joints the only areas exposed. Someone managed to stab a spear in the back of a giant's knee and bring it down, but it was only because of a lucky opening. Some of the living giants began to brawl with the remained undead ones, but the violence and force of their battles was so intense that soldiers of both sides were caught in the middle of it, getting injured and killed.

But the threat of the undead giants was nothing compared to the White Walkers. Their speed was far greater than any undead soldier and they dodged and broke any weapon or defense that was put against them. Their blades of ices would cut through many men with one swing, disemboweling them and freezing their innards with the magic they possessed.

By chance, Gendry saw someone with a castle forged sword take a swing at a White Walker when its back was turned, but the steel shattered on impact into tiny pieces. Now he knew what Rickon Stark meant when he said his sword was shattered before it was reforged into Snow.

Bringing his hammer down hard onto a naked collar bone of a wight, Gendry realized he'd caught the attention of one of the White Walkers. It was black with a short beard and dashing right for him. If it was anything else, Gendry's first instinct would have been to stand his ground and face what wanted to test his mettle. But Gendry was too afraid when he saw the White Walker looking right into his eyes. He wanted to run, but his legs felt too heavy to even walk.

As the White Walker got closer, Ser Japser came shouting from behind Gendry with a dragonglass spear raised above his head. He got in between the White Walkers path to Gendry, and without emotion charged to meet the evil that was meant for him.

Ser Jasper thrusted his spear with great strength at the White Walker, but its inhuman speed made it easy for it to dodge. Every attempt the old knight made was futile. The White Walker slashed its ice sword and broke the spear shaft in the middle, then it followed its attack by impaling Ser Jasper straight through his breastplate.

"No!" Gendry shouted uncontrollably.

The steel armor shattered, and Ser Jasper collapsed the instant the ice sword was pulled from of his chest. The White Walker turned its gaze back to Gendry, who was no longer feeling afraid, but ashamed that he let Ser Jasper fight alone while he just stood there. His shame turned into anger, then rage, then fury.

Tightening his grip on his hammer, Gendry started to run at the White Walker, letting out a great roar from deep within himself. Within reach, Gendry swung his hammer at the White Walkers lower body while ducking past the blade of ice. Both weapons missed their targets, but Gendry followed the momentum of his hammer and spun around while bringing his hammer above him to strike at the Walker's head. The hammer would've hit hard on the icy skin of the White Walker had the undead body of Ser Jasper not gotten in the way. Gendry's hammer landed right next to Ser Jasper's neck and broke all the bones it hit. Blood spurted out of Ser Jasper's wound and stained Gendry's shredded surcoat over the stag head. Ser Jasper collapsed and the blue of his eyes faded just as the White Walker swung its blade up and cut the shaft of Gendry's hammer in half just as it did Ser Jasper's spear. The White Walker backhanded Gendry, knocking in the snow a few yards away. The blow was so hard that Gendry had the wind knocked out of him when he landed in the snow. When he recovered from his sate, the White Walker was nearly at him, walking slowly and with desire to end him.

Not able to take his eyes away, Gendry felt both of his hands around for anything he could use to defend himself, but all he could feel was snow.

All of the sudden, there was a great large blur of grey that jumped over Gendry and bashed into the White Walker, knocking it into the snow. The grey blur was actually a a big grey wolf, a very big grey wolf. The White Walker dropped its weapon and was wrestling with the wolf, giving Gendry the time he needed to find a weapon. He got to his feet and ran over to where is hammer was broken and grabbed hold of the half with the head.

By the time the White Walker pushed the wolf off, Gendry swung his hammer as hard as he could, the dragonglass impacting square in the face. The white Walker practically shattered into ice, armor and all. Around him, Gendry saw many of the wights collapse and lay motionless, just like the King said they would.

Gendry let out a big sigh of relief as he stood up with his broken hammer in hand. His gaze shifted to the large grey wolf who was looking right at him. "You're big. Well, bigger than most. Are you Arya's dire wolf, Nymeria?" The dire wolf's ears perched up at the sound of her name. "Thank you." Gendry smiled at his correct guess as he tore his surcoat off and saw the condition of his breastplate. The dent the White Walker made wasn't too bad, but any damage inflicted in that area would most likely crack the steel. "I'll have to fix that when this is over." Gendry looked back at Nymeria and saw a great pack of wolves behind her that began to ravage at the dead, but she just kept on looking at him. "I think there's someone more important than me you should be watching over, don't you think?"

* * *

Grey Worm

Being ever valiant to hold the lines away from the dead, the infantry pressed on and held their ground, no matter what came at them, no matter how deadly. They would not let the dead get through them. Already about three thousand had fallen and turned, yet there were some from the front line that were still alive. They undead however were suffering far greater casualties. Bodies began to pile up into small hills near eight feet high. In some areas it was higher because of the bodies of dead giants. The obstruction the bodies made pushed the infantry back to make room to fight. Because of this, the wights were forced to climb over the bodies but it gave them the position to jump onto the infantry and cause more problems for them.

Every so often a wight would fall onto a spear pointed up and when they were skewered, black rotted blood would leak out of their bodies and drip onto whatever solder was below. Nearly everyone in the first three rows was covered in blood somewhere. Be it their boots, shields, spears, or helmets, their armor was beginning to be dyed crimson red with the blood of their enemies and allies.

Even with the hills of bodies and the volleys of arrows that had been shooting above them nonstop since the battle started, the dead continued to attack in vast numbers. With their current fighting tactics, the bodies that piled up were forcing the infantry to retreat backwards ever so slowly, pushing them out of the pass. No matter what, that couldn't be allowed to happen.

In the second line, Grey Worm scanned the piles of bodies as best he could, trying to determine the best course of action. If the living could get the high ground against the dead, then they would have an advantage.

"Naejot memēbagon!" He shouted as loud as he could. Other Unsullied soldiers repeated his command and some repeated it in the common tongue.

"Forward march!"

Treading carefully as to not let the defensive line weaken, the rows of infantry began to move forward and march on top of the bodies that had just perished.

As Grey Worm and the infantry began their climb over the bodies of the fallen, he could hear some displeasure expressions from some of the Westerosi forces. They did not want to fight while standing on their friends and family. But the Unsullied had no care like that. The dead are dead, and they need to do whatever they can do achieve victory at all costs.

As the first few rows reached the top, the sight of what was beyond was breathtaking, but in a terrible way. The grounds were littered with so many bodies that the snow they rested on was hardly visible. Yet still, the dead continued their charge to break through the infantry even though a section of the west wall of the pass was destroyed. In fact, wights were coming into the pass from that opening, all of them determined to break through.

The infantry lines began to settle on the dead bodies but keeping one's balance proved difficult. The dead bodies were not a fixed mass and felt like standing on rocks covered in mud.

Taking a position at the front, Grey Worm planted his shield down at the edge of the decline of bodies and aimed his spear down at the wights climbing up. Maintaining a firm grip, Grey Worm was constantly thrusting his spear down at the wights. The undead soldiers crawled over one another to try and get close to the infantry, like ants racing for a bit of honey. Except what was behind the infantry was more like an entire pot.

The constant fighting had no strain on Grey Worm's energy, but the cold was what was fighting against him besides the dead. But all he could do to keep warm was to keep fighting. To his dismay, the soldier from the Westerlands was pulled forward by his spear and into the mass of the dead. The soldier screamed as multiple blades were stabbed into his body over and over. Before a soldier could take the fallen man's place, Grey Worm thrusted his spear into the skull of a wight, but the ones around it were beginning to follow the strategy of what just transpired. Three wights grabbed at the shaft of Grey Worm's spear and pulled down hard. But being clever enough, Grey Worm let go of the spear and watched it disappear in the horde of wights.

"Spear!" Grey Worm shouted as he held his arm behind him and awaited a new weapon. The moment he felt a spear placed in his hand, he immediately resumed fending of the wights.

As the infantry held they defense with the upper hand, two horns blasted consecutively. One from the Eastern Wall, and one from behind. The meaning behind both meant bad news from the source. 'The archers have run out of arrows.'

The last volley from behind the infantry was released and sailed as far and true as they could. All of them sang through the air and ended when they landed in the wights or those that were already dead.

But a minute later, the dead seemed to notice that there were no more arrows being shot at them, and their attitude shifted. With no more artillery support, the dead ran more furiously and maniacally, climbing over one another in far greater numbers. Had the infantry been behind the wall of bodies, the wights would've appeared like a great wave and caused even greater damage.

Fending off the dead became more difficult. Dozens of men were pulled down into their ranks and joining them. Grey Worm himself nearly slipped and fell into the horde, but only because the bodies he stood on shifted a bit. But to his surprise, the bodies were still shifting, in a way that wasn't because of being stood or climbed on.

From the middle of the lines, an undead giant burst up from the wall of bodies. It carried a long thick stick with a blade poorly tied at the end. The giant swung the weapon around him, cutting through many of the infantry surrounding him who were taken off guard.

Aside from the giants, many of the dead bodies that were stood on began to rise up and attack the soldiers. Many started to fall over and sink into the wall as if they were swarmed by insects. Grey Worm looked at his feet and saw three pairs of eyes light up the color blue. He didn't understand how they were coming back from being stabbed by the dragonglass. It didn't make sense. Then it hit him, many of the wights were only playing dead. After all, how do you tell if a rotting corpse was dead or not?

Furious, Grey Worm began to stab his spear at what he stood on, unsure of what was truly dead or not. "Fall back!" He shouted as loud as he could. Only a few repeated his orders to the soldiers, but they were barely heard amidst the screaming of men being lost and killed. All around, soldiers were either being pulled forward or sinking into the bodies.

The infantry began to slowly step back as best they could without falling over or being dragged down into death.

Grey Worm's focus was scattered all around him. From below he had to watch out for hands attached to bodies with glowing blue eyes and in front of him he had to was out of wights starting to climb over the wall of bodies.

From behind, another giant burst up from the bodies, sending many who stood over him into the air in all directions. It carried a great club the size of a tree trunk and bashed it into as many as it could. Shields were splintered, and strong bodies crushed into sacks of broken bones and flesh.

Grey Worm joined two others to try and attack the giant, but as he went to thrust his spear, something grabbed hold of his leg and threw him off balance. He slipped forward and fell right into the path of the club as it came swinging. The impact of the wood against his body and shield was a loud booming noise. Grey Worm's shield was completely destroyed, and he was sent into the air towards the horde of wights.

Already, Grey Worm's body was in pain he never imagined possible, but landing on the ground was utter hell. He could feel the bones of his shield arm fracture, and some of his ribs as well. He hurt badly, but he couldn't let himself die yet. He had to return to Missandei, they had to travel to their homes, they had to love each other again.

Grey Worm's thoughts stopped when he saw a freshly killed Unsullied turn into a wight standing over him, holding a short sword. Desperate, Grey Worm tried to grab his own blade, but the cold steel of the Unsullied wight's blade entered into his neck, piercing the bone.

The blade was quickly removed from Grey Worm's neck and stabbed into his body, over and over again, as if the wight had to make sure he stabbed at every possible place that would kill him. The heat of his blood leaked out of his body, staining every inch that it ran over.

Grey Worm stopped feeling pain and started to feel cold. But not like how he'd ever felt it before. This cold was nice, and comforting. It was a blissful feeling he had, so much he wanted others to feel this wonderful cold. He wanted his men to share in what he was feeling. He wanted them to feel cold, he wanted them to be dead too.

* * *

Tormund

Listening to horns blasting aggravated the ginger Wildling. Tormund roared out as loud as he could with each swing of the large dragonglass axe he found left in the chest of some southerner. His first ax had shattered after one too many collisions with steel weapons. Even with the Northern armor and chainmail weighing on him, his strength knew no bounds as the blade of the axe tore through many wights in one swing. Even the undead giants didn't stand a chance against him in his furious state of battle.

Tormund brought his axe down on a wight, cleaving its body down the middle perfectly. But his eyes were set on a different prize than just wights. Tearing through the living without any struggle at all was an undead mammoth covered head to toe with wights that acted like a layer of armor, taking the blows that would have killed it instead.

Cutting through whatever dead got in his way, Tormund charged as fast as he could to kill the mammoth and avenge the dozens it plowed through. But before he could do that, he had to get past its guards, two giants that stole the weapons made by the Umber smiths for their giants. One of them carried an enormous mace and the other carried a great spear. Both of them killed a great many of men who tried to attack them with their spears and other weapons of dragonglass, but Tormund wasn't like any other man, killing undead giants was far easier than living ones. All you had to do was strike anywhere on the body with dragonglass or Valyrian steel.

Decapitating a wight in his way, Tormund shoved the body aside and immediately dove forward to avoid being pierce by the large spear of the first giant. He rolled forward with the momentum and swung his axe into the giant's leg. Without making a sound of pain, the giant fell forward onto two wights nearby, crushing them completely.

"One down, one to go." Tormund said to himself as a swarm of wights raced at him. There were too many for him to handle, but he didn't give a damn about that.

Taking a step back, Tormund winded up his axe and waited for just the right moment when as many wights as possible were in his reach. When that time came, he spun around and let the dragonglass tear through whatever dared come into its path. But even with the blade as sharp as sharp as it could be, the axe only gutted four wights before the momentum was halted abruptly. The axe became stuck in the spine of a Crow wight and tangled in rusty chainmail.

Tormund struggled to get the axe free as the rest of the wights drew closer to him. He let go of the axe and switched to using his dragonglass dagger and bone-handle sword. Quickly parrying a spear thrusted at him, Tormund lunged forward and planted his dagger in between the ribs of the wight that attacked him.

Tormund began to grow frustrated as the mammoth and the giants grew further away from him, ending his chance to kill them. Two wights tackled him hard into the snow, each trying to seize the chance to turn him into one of them. Tormund was able to stick his dagger into the thigh of one of them, but the other was putting up more of a fight. A set of black fingernails clawed at his right check and drew blood. With all of his strength, Tormund roared out as he threw the wight off of him. Using his sword, he stabbed it straight into the wight's chest and pinned it to the ground. As the creature struggled to get free of the blade, Tormund repeated his technique with his dagger and ended the wight's curse.

From behind him, another pair of wights charged at him with large double-bladed axes, but a beauty wielding a golden hilted Valyrian swords got in the way, and cut them down to pieces. But what she didn't she was a last wight rushing at her from a blind spot, its shrieking hidden with the rest of the sounds of the battle.

Reacting as fast as he could, Tormund threw his dagger at the wight and the blade sunk into its rib cage. The wight fell apart into a pile as Brienne turned around and saw what had nearly happened.

Walking over to Tormund, Brienne offered her hand to him and it was quickly taken. She pulled him up and was met with a big smile from Tormund.

"Would you not do that please?" Brienne asked as she scanned around for anything that might try to catch her off guard. "This is not the time or the place."

"Actually," Tormund said as he pulled his sword out of the wight pinned to the snow and retrieved his dagger, "This is the perfect time and the place to happy. At least for me." Tormund grabbed the handle of his dragonglass axe and pulled it out of the Crow wight's body with all of his strength. "The Free Folk have never taken the fight to the dead since their return, and I've never killed so many before in my life." He quickly rushed next to her with his axe at the ready. "Would you help me take down those two." Tormund pointed at the giant and mammoth that were still tearing through soldiers without getting a scratch on them.

"I will if you stop talking already." For a brief moment, Tormund could have sworn he saw Brienne smile as the started to run after the giant and the mammoth.

Together, the two of them slashed and cleaved whatever got in their way. As they got closer, Brienne grabbed hold of a dragonglass spear stuck in the ground. "Keep the dead away from me." She said as he sheathed her sword and aimed the spear.

Tormund didn't even need her to say that to start guarding her with his life. He was not going to let anything get near her even if it was the last thing he did. Luckily for him only a few wights tried to attack out of the vast many that could have.

With a small dash forward, Brienne lunged the spear at the giant and the mammoth, but her target was the giant. The spear sailed beautiful past the falling snow and sank deep into the giant's back. The giant fell to his knees and then it collapsed with a great thud. Now, all that remained was the mammoth.

"I swear when this is over, I'm think I might steal you away." Tormund confessed as he pulled his axe out of a wights neck and walked over to Brienne.

Before Brienne could reply, her eyes widened and she dashed at Tormund. "Look out!" She tackled him to the snow so hard that he let go of his axe. They rolled on the ground and from behind Tormund, the undead mammoth came charging by exactly where he was standing.

Tormund nearly pissed himself when he realized what just happened. "Thanks for that," he said, just inches away from her face. Brienne pushed herself off of him and stood up as quick as she could.

"Don't mention it." She offered her hand to him and pulled him up once again, but was unable to hide the slight hint of red in her cheeks.

Tormund looked over to wear he dropped his axe and saw the head was smashed into bits and pieces. "Damn, I liked that axe." He said as he drew his sword and dagger.

"It's coming back around," Brienne said, "I think it doesn't like us."

"The dead don't feel anything except for threats. Right now we're the biggest ones around."

Brienne drew her sword quickly and hacked apart a wight that tried to run her through while her back was turned. "So how do we kill it before it kills us?"

"We strike where it's not protected, its balls." Brienne scoffed at the idea but accepted it nonetheless. "I've tangled with mammoths before, I'll make the kill."

"Can you do it with just a dagger?" Brienne asked as she looked at the length of his only dragonglass weapon. She had a point. The length of the blade was no longer than Tormund's index finger since it had broken in half.

"If you're willing to let me borrow the sword, then it won't be a problem." Tormund hastily dropped the dagger and held out his empty hand for the sword, all the while keeping his eyes on the mammoth which was approaching fast and furiously.

Brienne was hesitant at first, but she placed Oathkeeper in Tormund's hand. "I want that back," she told him as she drew the dagger he gave her in Winterfell and got ready to duck away from the mammoth again.

Tormund held the sword at the ready, waiting for just the right moment he would get to duck in between the mammoth's legs. The timing had to be perfect if he wanted to do this without any injury. If he did it to early, his head would be hit by a tusk. Too late, and his legs would get hit and break.

The ground started to rumble as the mammoth got closer and closer. The great undead beast began to sway its head from side to side with every intention of hitting Tormund and Brienne.

"Now!" Tormund shouted. Brienne aside and Tormund dove forward the moment the mammoth's tusks where out of the way of the gap between its legs. He rolled arms-first under the beast, his forehead slightly cut above his brow by Oathkeeper's hilt. Then he rose up and sliced the edge of the sword into the mammoth's appendage.

The undead mammoth fell head first and crashed into the ground, throwing all of the wights protecting it off of its body.

Rising up to his feet, Tormund turned around and began to make his way back to Brienne, quickly, as the wights got up as well and saw her as their target. Without her sword, she would be at a disadvantage, and there were some behind her that she wouldn't notice.

Wielding both swords, Tormund slashed Oathkeeper through the body of one wight and was astonished at how clean and smooth the blade cut through bone just as it did muscle and flesh. Immediately after the first wight, Tormund blocked a stone axe of another with his short sword, and stabbed Oathkeeper up into its skull.

Even with just her dagger, Brienne was managing just fine with it. She was able to disarm a decent sword from her second kill and fend the rest off better than imagined. The dead weren't trained knights, so their skill wasn't that great. The only thing that gave them their advantage was the ability to no feel pain or die from regular wounds. But with her dagger, Brienne was managed to kill every single one of them.

What she didn't notice was one that got away from Tormund as he was fighting off one of the last that he could. It raised a broken sword above its head and nearly brought it down on Brienne's back, but with quick thinking and reflex, Tormund shoved Oathkeeper into this opponent's chest and threw his shortsword at the other wight. It sank deep into its back, causing it to screech and fumble to the ground.

Brienne was able to turn around fast enough and plant her dagger in the wight's face before it could get up. Tormund became relieved that she was able to stay alive and unharmed. He kicked the wight's body off of Oathkeeper and began to walk to her, catching his breath from fatigue. She looked just as relieved as he was as she leaned up against the sword she took, right next to the mammoth's body.

"Nice kills." She said as she looked up.

Before Tormund could thank her for one of the few praises she ever gave him, his body tensed and panicked. He saw a White Walker leaping over the mammoth from the other side, its spear aimed straight at Brienne. He roared out as he shoved her aside and barely parried the spear as the Walker landed. Immediately, the two of them began battling for the other's death.

Oathkeeper's steel sang with every collision with the spear's ice blade. The White Walker's strength was great, but so was Tormund's and his was fueled with unyielding rage. He dodged a thrust to his chest and swung Oathkeeper around his body at the White Walker, but the speed of the White Walker was greater than usual, and it was able to block the strike with the shaft of its spear.

The White Walker pushed Tormund away and twirled its spear behind its back in a motion that Tormund could where the next attack would be. The spear would be coming down from above, but if he could dodge it, the momentum of the spear would force it to the ground, leaving the White Walker's upper body open to attack for just a moment.

Resisting the instinct to parry, Tormund let the spear slash down and the moment it hit the ground, he swung Oathkeeper and landed the blade right at the neck of the White Walker's collar. The creature shattered into thousands of pieces, save its weapon, and wights collapsed around the battlefield.

Tormund let out a big sigh, but the end of it turned into a cough. A strange taste filled his mouth and leaked onto his lips. He ran his sleeve over his mouth and saw it stained it with blood. He looked down to his body and saw even more blood dripping out of a large gash in his armor. He hadn't been quick enough to dodge the entire spear, and he'd paid the price for it.

Tormund looked up and turned around, facing Brienne. She saw the blood. His grip around Oathkeeper was lost and the sword fell to the snow the same time as his knees did.

But instead of feeling his body fall cold into the snow, Tormund found himself caught by strong arms. His vision started to have flashes of becoming blurry and focused. He was turned over and dragged over to the cover of the mammoth's body. Finally gaining some focus, he could finally see that Brienne was over him, looking at his wounds. He couldn't feel any pain for some reason, only cold.

Brienne was panicking and saying something, but it was becoming muffled in his ears.

"Don't worry," Tormund spoke past the blood in his throat, "I killed the fucker… so I won't be turning into one of them." He felt something removing his glove on the hand resting on Brienne's lap, then something warm wrap around it. Brienne held it tight and close to her as he began to slip away. He wanted to speak more, but it was so hard to actually do it.

"I'm glad I get to die this way… the last thing I see… is a beautiful woman watching over me…"

He saw Brienne close her eyes and slightly shake her head, denying what he said about her.

"You are beautiful… Brienne of Tarth… I-" Tormund couldn't find the strength to speak anymore or breathe. In fact, he couldn't find anything anymore, only the warmth of a kiss on his forehead as all went dark, then turned to light like a morning sky and he was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I don't see any good money, I might just wait a few extra days to post the next part because... I can. HAHAHA. But really, SHOW ME THE MONEY!


	71. The Storm Final

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally complete. Big Thanks to my beta the Hope Lions and everyone who gave me their help. None of this would've been as good as it is without you

**Finally complete. Big Thanks to my beta the Hope Lions. None of this would've been as good as it is without you**

* * *

Arya

"Watch it!" Sandor shouted as he swung Heartsbane directly down onto a wight, cutting it perfectly in half and just nearly missing Arya. "You're not keeping track of yourself girl!" He told her as he kept on fighting.

Stabbing Blackfyre into the torso of a wight, Arya shrugged his criticism of her off. "I've never been in a battle before!" When they all made the charge, Arya expected it all to be something from a song. At the beginning it was, all the soldiers shouting battle cries and fueled with a desire to win, but in heart of it all everything was chaos and the goal was to survive it. One moment, she would be fighting alongside someone. The next moment they would be on the ground dead or a trying to kill her.

Skewering a freshly made wight, Sandor lifted the creature off its feet and threw the body of the sword. "Doesn't matter if you want to stay alive!"

A wight covered in flames burst throw the battle and charged at Sandor, causing him to tense up. Feeling the need to save him, Arya slit the knees of the wight she was just engaged with and ran into the burning wights path and slashed it across the chest.

When she turned around to check if he was alright, Sandor was already back into to combat, not wanting to be seen as he was.

"Fucking fiery cunts!" He shouted while carving the Valyrian great sword through four wights with one swing. All around them were the warriors of the Fiery Hand from Essos, fighting side by side with the men of the Stormlands against the dead with their flaming swords. The dead caught fire like pitch but they didn't die as quickly they would from dragonglass and Valyrian steel.

Arya made sure to keep close to Sandor. Her skills were sharper than they have ever been, but she wouldn't risk making another mistake that could get her killed. Not to mention, she was only sixteen and rather small for her size. Her strength was far from that of the dead, and they could easily overpower her. But what she did have that they didn't was greater speed.

Dodging a rusty chain of all things, Arya stomped her foot on the end of it when it touched the ground and stabbed Blackfyre into the wight's exposed ribcage. The entire creature collapsed into a pile of bones, hardly any flesh on them, before she was faced with a sword swinging straight for her.

Reacting on instinct, Arya's knees fell to the snow and the blade whisteled over her, just barely missing her skin. The wight sent a flury of attacks after Arya, but its movements were so rash and barbaric that she could dodge them with hardly any effort.

The wight stopped and took a moment to realize what it was doing was completely useless agaisnt her, which surprised Arya, but doing so allowed it to be stabbed by Valyrian steel through the hip.

Arya could feel herself getting better at this. Maybe she should start keeping count to see how many she could kill.

All thoughts emptied her mind when a terrifying screeching came from the sky.

Looking up, Arya saw the undead dragon flying towards where she was fighting and being chased by Ygris. The Night King must have given up his chase for her as he finally turned his attention where everyone was hoping he wouldn't.

The undead dragon opened its mouth and an evil blue light formed from the back of its throat. Seconds later, blue fire blasted from the mouth the dragon. The flames were about twenty yards away from Arya, but force of the blast's impact knocked her backwards off of her feet.

She hit the ground hard and started to feel light headed. Her ears started to ring and her vision blurred. From what she could see, there was a great trail of blue fire stretching across the battlefield, killing more of the living than it did the dead.

A great many others were knocked into the snow from the blast of fire, but their fate was no better than those the blue flames hit. When everyone tried to regain their footing, soldiers were swarmed by wights and brutally massacred.

Arya felt her grip on Blackfyre tighten immensely when a large Wildling wight thrusted a spear down at her. Still in a daze, Arya rolled over and dodged the jagged steel. Swinging her legs, Arya kicked her feet up and managed to knock the spear out of the way. Swinging Blackfyre, she was able to cut the blade into the wights sleeve, enough that it fell down hard on top of her. She grunted hard when the full weight of the wight pinned her in the snow.

Using all her strength, Arya slipped out from underneath the wight and finally regained her senses. She looked all around her and saw hundreds of wights overrunning the Stormland soldiers and Fiery Hand. Burning swords were dowsed as the wielders fell dead at the hands of the wights. The undead dragon was returning high into the skies, Ygris unleashing a burst stream of fire right behind it.

"Sandor!" Arya shouted. She looked all around the battlefield and tried to find any hint of him, but everything was becoming to chaotic. The last place she remembered seeing him was near where the blue dragon fire hit the ground. She thought the worst happened to him as she stared at the fire flickering from the ground, the flames rising higher than her. Standing from where she was, she could feel the heat like it was right next to her. Yet with the heat so great, the snow around the flames remained frozen.

Arya's attention turned to the sound of clashing steel behind her. She turned and saw one of the Fiery Hand getting stabbed through the head with a crude dagger. Without a second thought, Arya rushed forward and stabbed her sword through the wight's body. The soldier it killed didn't even hit the ground when his eyes turned blue, the dagger still imbedded in his skull.

The newly made wight swept its foot at Arya's legs and knocked her backwards. Before she could get up, the wight was already on top of her. Arya held Blackyre up with her hands and used all of her strength to keep the wight away. It clawed at her leather armor, trying to tear through to her skin.

The wight wore a steel breastplate, giving Arya no chance to cut through even with the Valyrian steel. The only place that wasn't protected was the wight's neck. Arya maneuvered Blackyre up the breastplate as best she could and lined the edge up to its neck. She slid the blade across the wight's neck and the magic of the steel diminished the blue light of the wight's eyes. But the wound Arya just inflicted was not a clean one. A great amount of blood began to spill out of the neck and poured over Arya's face.

She shut her eyes and spit out the blood that dripped into her mouth as she shoved the body aside. She let go of Blackfyre and started to wipe the blood off of her face. But strangely, the blood had already frozen, far too quickly than it should have. She started to panic and claw at her eyes, trying to get the blood off so she could open them.

Her efforts stopped when she felt something trip over her and all of the sounds around rushed into her mind at the same time. Her time training in Bravos as a Faceless Man enhanced everything it could when her sight was gone, making everything around her far worse.

From every direction all Arya could hear was pain and death in the most vile of ways. Images of the Stark army massacre at the Red Wedding began to flash through her mind. Men screaming like newborn babes and begging for mercy or something to save them from their last moments before death.

"HELP ME!" Crude steel tearing through flesh was ever constant.

"NO! NO! Nooaugh!" The only thing Arya could hear was a gagging before what could be bones being ripped out of the body.

"Die you cu-" Whoever said those words was cut short when the sound of a blade immediately stopped his words.

Every skill Arya knew of swordplay, stealth, it meant nothing now. She desperately crawled around the snow, hoping that she would find someone who could help her. She wanted Sandor to find her, Gendry, Jon, anyone. She wanted her father to save her from the part of war that is never made into a song.

She bumped her head into what felt like a stone pillar, but it was wearing greaves of a sort. Letting go of Blackfyre, Arya felt her hand in front of her to see if she could identify the shape of what it was. She could feel a boot, and a leg attached to it. It couldn't be a wight, otherwise she would've been dead already.

"You have to help me, I can't open my eyes!"

Whoever it was, they didn't say anything to her. In fact the only noise she could hear coming from them was a strange one, like ice breaking. Every hair on her skin stood up when she remembered what creature made such a noise. It kicked her onto her back and from where she was, Arya could hear the creature pick up Blackfyre and toss it away.

A great presence of cold reached down to Arya. In a scared attempt, she swung a fist at what was in front of her. Her hand was caught but a grip firm as stone and a freezing sensation shot through Arya's left arm. She let out an agonizing scream and clutched at her arm once she was realised, begging that the pain would fade.

The strange icy sound was made again followed by what sounded like a sword being unsheathed.

'So this is how I die. Blind and alone on the battlefield. I don't want to die yet!'

Someone began yelling out as loud as the could and snapped Arya out of her fear. Aside form that noise, there was a wild barking getting louder and louder. There was a loud thud just in front of her and the sound of a predator's prey being torn to shreds. Whoever was shouting stopped as a hammer swung through the air and shattered something like glass.

Seconds later, a pair of arms picked her up and started to drag her away.

"I got you milady."

"Gendry?"

"Who else would it be?" He told her. Gendry stopped and sat her up against what felt like a big body. "Hold still, she's gonna clean the blood off your eyes."

Before Arya could ask, some large, warm, and wet began to lick at her face. It didn't take long for the blood to be cleaned off her face. The first thing she saw when her eyes open was a big pair of golden ones looking at her. Arya nearly burst into now that she finally got to reunite with Nymeria. Forgetting the pain in her arm, Arya lurched forward and embraced her direwolf around her large mane.

"Don't leave me again girl." Arya begged with all her heart.

"She won't, and neither will I." Gendry informed as he knelt down to Arya and held her tightly. "How's the arm?"

Arya let go of Nymeria and held up her left arm to Gendry. "It's cold and it hurts like a bite in the arse."

Gendry gently undid her leather vambrace and rolled her sleeve down. Arya clenched her teeth as the fabric slid on her skin and felt like a knife. Her left arm was dark red but the snub was very pale.

"You need a maester. I'm taking you to the camps-"

Nymeria started to growl loudly and bore her teeth at something behind the two of them. Gendry and Arya turned their heads and saw a group of wights heading straight towards them with nothing in their way.

"Seven hells," Gendry shook his head, "can you fight?" He reached behind him and held Blackfyre out to Arya.

She grabbed hold of the handle and got on her feet, keeping her injured arm close to her body. "Do you think we're going to die here?" She asked him as they faced the wights.

"Not today."

* * *

Edric

The battle was going on for just over an hour now, but to everyone fighting it felt like weeks were passing by. The durability of the dragonglass weapons proved to not last as long, for the rock itself was brittle and cracked. At this point, all anyone could do was rely on regular steel weapons. That was until torches became deadlier than any blade. Nearly every man wielded a burning torch instead of a sword, and spears dipped in pitch set alight.

Rather than wielding a flaming weapon, Edric was fortunate enough to be graced with two swords that were still able to kill the undead on strike. Fighting for so long made his armor was dented and battered. The only bits that he still wore were his greaves, breastplate, chainmail, and left spaulder. Everything was absolute hell, and he was right in the middle of it.

He just finished fighting off a great wight snow bear with seven other men, and then the six that died trying. Taking a moment, Edric gazed around the fighting just to take in the chaos and tried to spot any sign of victory in his favor. "Come on Ned," he told himself, "show these old men of Dorne the power of youth."

Every moment he swung his swords, Edric felt like he was dancing in the cold. But this dance wasn't one of entertainment or the steps of something formal. This dance was driven by his heart and fueled with every emotion he could put into it. Anger against the mindless evil that killed any and everyone without a second thought. Fear that his skill was not great to be a Sword of the Morning, that one inch too shy of his strikes and blocks might be the inch that gets him killed. But most of all hope. Hope that he will live through this catastrophe. Hope that he will see his wife and children at the end of all this. Hope that there would be the moment of absolute victory.

First Light struck deep into a crude iron shield belonging to a long dead wight and wouldn't budge. Letting go of the sword, Edric dodged an axe that swung at his head and swiftly planted Dawn deep into the wight's body.

Edric reached to free First Light from the shield, but he failed to see a wight's sword slash down at him. The chainmail held strong, not a single ring breaking, but the slash was great enough that the force it carried brought great pain to Edric's sword arm.

Edric cried out as the pain shot up his arm, as if it pricked every nerve possible. In anger he cut down the wight that struck him as fast he could before a large arm wrapped around his body and started dragging him away from the battle.

"Make way! Lord Dayne is injured!"

First Light disappeared in a swarm of soldiers, both living and dead. "Release me! I can still fi-" Something hard hit him in the head, making everything go dark.

The next thing Edric knew, he was lying down on a bed in one of the tents. His eyes opened and everything was a blurry haze. He tried to move, but a maester next at his bedside forced him to stay still.

"My lord," the old man said, "you mustn't move. The chainmail protected your arm from dismemberment, but the strength of the strike tore your skin to the muscle."

Edric lifted his head and could see his sleeve had been rolled up and a large gash just below the wrist on his right arm. "Seven hells," he muttered, "my sword arm."

"Drink this." The maester held up a small vial to Edric's lips.

"What is it?"

"Milk of the Poppy."

"I don't any damn Milk of-" Edric was slapped across his face by the maester.

"If I hear one more person say they don't want Milk of the Poppy, I'll make them beg for it. Drink the milk."

Edric rolled his eyes and did as he was told. All things considered, it did not taste like any kind of milk at all, but it was sour. He swallowed the medicine and watched as the maester prepared to do his work. Faintly, he could still hear the noises of war. "How long was I out?"

"Not long. You woke up as quick as you were brought to me."

"My sword, where's Dawn?"

"Resting on a table behind your head."

"Then do what you must as fast as you can. I need to get back out there."

The maester chuckled lightly as he worked some herbs in a mortar. "As you wish. The soonest you'll be ready will be in about… three weeks."

"I need to get back out there now." Edric demanded.

"The bones in your arm are cracked. Any violent movement and they'll fracture. Then it will be months before you recover and the damage to your arm will permanently affect your ability with a sword." The maester mixed the mortar contents with a strange liquid and brought it to Edric.

"I can't rest on a bed while others fight and die to protect the country."

"You can and you will. Bite down on this and don't move." The maester held out a thick piece of leather to Edric who bit it hastily. Using a small spoon, the maester dripped the liquid onto Edric's wound. Edric clenched his teeth and his whole body when the liquid touched his injury. each drop felt like searing hot daggers sinking deeper into what was already done. He cried out and bit down on the leather as heard as he could, nearly biting through to his teeth. "Now think how bad that would've been without the Milk of the Poppy." The maester stopped applying the liquid to Edric's wound and began the stitching.

The feeling of the needle was unnoticeable, so Edric spat the leather out of his mouth and breathed heavily, recovering from the pain.

"If you go out there like this, you won't even live through the first thing that attacks you. How glorious will your death be then, hm?" With his sewing done, the maester cut the thread and began to wrap a clean bandage around the wound. "I would advise you to rest, but none of the men I've treated so far have been able to while the battle continues to rage on. I won't force you to stay in bed, but there are two men out there who will make sure as all the hells that exist that you don't go back to the fight." He finished with the bandage and strapped a wooden brace on Edric's arm, securing it snuggly as to not make it hurt any more than it would and restricting his wrist from moving. "Sit up." The maester help Edric sit up before retrieving a sling and wrapping it around Edric's neck and resting his arm in it. "You're all set. You can stay here and try to rest as per my recommendation or go out there. But what do I care? I'm just the one trying to save lives." The excused himself from Edric's presence and sat himself at a table that had a water skin, but it was probably filled with wine.

Being stubborn as he was, Edric got out of the bed, retrieved Dawn, and left the tent. Regardless of whether or not he wanted to rest, he wouldn't be able to while the battle continued on. But he also didn't want to be in the company of himself or that maester, so he decided to go to where he would feel at best during the time.

Followed by his guards, both of whom were Dornish, Edric walked through the camps until he arrived at the safest area in the entire camp. Entering the clearing in the middle of the encampment, the first thing he saw was Lyarras sitting upright, keeping a vigil over those she protected. In front of her was the Queen Daenerys, her handmaiden, Lord Brandon, Lord Rickon, and Lady Sansa who was the first to notice his presence.

"Lord Edric," she said before noticing his arm in a sling, "what happened? Are you alright?"

"Sword to the arm, my lady. But luckily my armor protected me from far worse." His guards gave him some distance as he approached the small host of lords and ladies. Brandon Stark was in his chair as always, and his eyes were the white of a warg's that Edric had heard so much about. It was a surprise for him to see that young Rickon's eyes were the exact same.

"Are you in pain?" Sansa asked.

"Not as much as I was when the wound was treated. I swear, that maester made it hurt on purpose. But in all good things, I will recover. I only wish it could miraculously heal now so that I can return to the battle. I can't stand all this waiting to find out who wins."

"You shouldn't be hard on yourself. I understand that you wish you want to be alongside your men. But if you died, what story would be told to your children about your demise?"

She had a point. If he did die like the maester said he would, what story or legacy would his children have to look up to? He didn't want them to learn to fight until the death, he wanted them to learn to fight until victory. "I just wish I could do more."

"You've done more than most could, and no one can say you did nothing. I'm afraid the same can't be said for me though." She looked like she was upset at herself. "I couldn't learn to shoot a bow or wield a spear, leaving me to endure this whole thing. All I've done is sit idly by and nearly get killed."

Edric gave her a reassuring smile. Sansa seemed to always lift her spirits whenever they spent time together. Seeing her in such a doubting state was unchivalrous of him. "Not everyone can find a place on the battlefield Sansa. Your skills lie in the game for the throne, and they can and will be deadlier than any blade, arrow, or dragon that we have."

Rickon suddenly gasped as if desperately trying to breath from lack of air in his lungs. He fell to hands and was helped up by the Queens handmaiden.

"Are you alright?" Daenerys asked.

Rickon nodded at her as he got to his feet. "Jon's getting close. He's just a mile away from us."

* * *

Tyrion

While the cavalry, infantry, and the other ground forces fought the wights at the pass and the collapsed Wall, the archers on the eastern battlements of the pass continued their volleys of arrows as long as they still had them.

The dead had no bows for reason that no one understood but they did occasionally launch spears and javelins at archers. The dead were getting smart as they kept their shields above their heads to catch the arrow falling from above. Grouping together, they were form small squads of shield walls and throw their weapons.

Luckily for the three heroes of the Blackwater Bay, they were all spared the fate of those that took spears to their bodies. The three of them stood at the edge of the ramparts, aiming for precise targets rather than participating in the volleys. Tyrion was given a box to stand on that he may be able to actually see what he was trying to shoot with his crossbow.

"How many do you think we've killed?" Bronn asked as he shot another arrow from his bow string down from the east battlements into the passageway.

"It's hard to say," Tyrion shot another bolt from his cross bow, "they're so many bodies down there, its hard to tell if I'm shooting at the enemy or something already dead."

"Just shoot what's moving." Bronn told him as he shot another arrow, looking fully confident that he hit something. He reached for another arrow that should have been in a bundle leaning up against the ice, but there weren't any more. "Podd!" Bronn shouted. "I need more arrows."

"I don't have more!" Podrick told him.

"I need arrows!" Bronn shouted openly while looking for anyone who had any to spare. But to his surprise, everyone was on their last arrows.

Tyrion still had six bolts, but he was the only one using a crossbow so it didn't matter. The men on the ramparts began to grow confused and angry, trying to get more of what they didn't have. While they argued, Tyrion noticed the dead began to rush the east side of the pass, swarming at the broken infantry to break through. That didn't much sense to Tyrion. The infantry was broken for now, but they were recovering fast enough and an attack from behind would be futile. There are five hundred men at the catapults, but even if the dead tried to attack them, there would be no more than a couple hundred that would get through and there were wargs that could see were reinforcements would be needed. And if the dead tried to flank the archers, it would be against worse odds.

"Bronn!" Tyrion called.

"Unless you're giving me that crossbow, I'm not interested." Bronn told him.

The dead were started to slip through and push the infantry away to establish a permanent line of entry. Only two managed to get past the soldiers, but they didn't run for the catapults or the archers, just east to nothing. It wouldn't make sense of they were trying to flee the battle when they were gaining the upper hand.

"Bronn!" Tyrion shouted louder.

"What?" Bronn asked angrily.

"What do think they're doing." Tyrion pointed out to the two wights that were gaining a small following of almost a dozen wights.

"I don't know. Is there anything east of here?"

"The closest place is Oakenshield, but it's thirty miles away. The battle will be over before they get there, and that's if they get past Rhaegal." It suddenly hit Tyrion in the head like a rock what the wights were trying to do. Even injured, Rhaegal could hold his own against a couple dozen wights. But if a dragon stuck on the ground had to face a hundred or more wights, it would surely lose. "They're going after Rhaegal! We need to reinforce the lines and keep more from getting through."

Bronn didn't hesitate to forget about the lack of ammunition and threw his bow to the side and drew his sword. He shoved past the men around to get to the stairs. "Quit standing around with hands on your cocks and get down there!" He shouted.

Other men rallied to him and drew their swords as well, rushing to get down from the what was now the spectators wall and into the fight. But others were not so brave as to follow their fellow soldiers into battle.

"What are you waiting for? Let's get down there?" Tyrion called to them.

"We're archers, not fighters." One of the men reminded. "We can't fight with swords as good as they can."

"So the battle is over for you then? Should I have some and ale sent up for you to enjoy watching the battle? I may be half a man, but I'm going down there to fight with the armies none the less. If you're not going to fight in this battle anymore, then why did you come to fight at all?" Some of the men looked ashamed at the truth of Tyrion's words. "Westeros is our home, and the home of our families!"

"Aye!" many of the men said in unison.

"If both of those aren't worth fighting for, then fight for yourselves! Fight so that you may live to see the light of tomorrow! Fight so that you make love to woman after tonight! Fight for glory! For honor! Fight for anything you can in this shit world and make it make it greater than it is!"

"AYE!" The men drew the swords they had and raised them up high and cheered for Tyrion. "Half man, half man, half man!"

"Podd, my axe." Podrick gave Tyrion a small dragonglass axe, made in the same size and shape of his axe from the Blackwater.

Leading the men down the steps of wood and ice, Tyrion began to question what in seven hells he was doing. Leading a charge? Rallying soldiers? This was the same foolish courage that nearly killed him at the Mud Gate of Kings Landing. But, maybe a fool's courage is what the battle needed right now. Many of the archers ran past Tyrion since his little legs could only go so fast as he could move them.

Bronn and his men were already engaging themselves against more wights that were slipping through. It would only be dozens right now, but if they don't plug the gap in the infantry in time, then there will be hundreds coming through.

But the dead were far stronger than Tyrion thought at first. The wights coming through the past focused entirely on breaking through to the east. The number of wights grew greater than anyone could have hoped for, and soon the dead would outnumber the living three to one.

Faintly, a horn could be heard from far way. It was a signal for reinforcements. But it would be a long wait for them to arrive. The archers would have to survive as long as they could, or let their deaths not be in vein.

Tyrion's only advantage in the fight was his size of all things. When the men he led began to fight the dead, he was practically ignored. None of them had any armor on their legs, giving Tyrion a great selection of easy kills. Swinging his axe with all the strength he could muster, Tyrion began chopping through flesh and bone as if he were a lumberjack. He had to careful who he attacked, for at his height he could barely see who had the blue eyes of the dead and who didn't.

Everything around was loud. The clashing of steel, breaking of bones, battering of armor, and cutting of flesh. But none of it was great enough to drown out the sound that erupted from the skies. Tyrion glanced up and saw the Night King's dragon flying high in the sky and Jon's white dragon diving down from higher up, heading straight for the Night King.

* * *

Jon

He was almost there. An hour of riding through thick snow and Jon was nearly at the camps, and soon he and Lyarras would be able to join Ygris in the skies and defeat the Night King. Though Lyarras wasn't as large or powerful as Rhaegal, she and Ygris were faster, and from all his years of fighting Jon was sure that speed was what determined the outcome of a fight. His only concern was if he would be able to handle it, he didn't have much experience flying to begin with and he was barely able to handle Rhaegal. But maybe His connection with Lyarras would be stronger since she had more of an attachment to him than Daenerys's dragons.

At the beginning of the ride, Jon was feeling doubtful about this whole thing. But after miles on horseback, having to watch and listen to his army fight and die while he was safely away from it all turned his doubt into anger. He would not be defeated by the Night King again. This time, he would be the one to stare at those eyes of ice without a single doubt that victory was his. But first, he had to get close to the wretched creature to even see those eyes.

All his emotions started to become mixed and confused, as if colliding with each other. But one thing that was clear among them was that his help was needed, desperately.

Jon halted his horse, his escort stopping with him.

"What's the matter?" Benjen asked.

"Something's wrong." Jon told him. This feeling left his mind and entered his heart, weighing heavily on him. His eyes were drawn to the sky and he could see Ygris chasing after the Viserion. But he could feel that she was growing tired and weak. Something had to be done now or else the tables would turn and she would surely be killed. "Ygris needs me now." Jon told them. "we won't make it to Lyarras in time."

Getting comfortable on his horse, Jon warged into Ygris and entered her mind, saw through her eyes, and felt her fatigue. Her thoughts aligned next to his, ready to know what he could do.

Ygris was faster than Viserion by far, but the undead dragon felt no pain or fatigue and neither did the rider. Such advantages are what gave the Night King the ability to handle such wild maneuvers. Whenever she would get close enough to use her fire or physically attack the two of them, they would break away that would throw any normal human off the back of the dragon. If Jon wanted Ygris to catch Viserion, she would need a strategy, and she would get one now that Jon was with her, in mind and spirit.

As far as he knew, the dragons were fantastic flying creatures, but if they were thrown off balance enough then they would fall out of the sky with only a slim chance to recover. Against an undead dragon with hardly any limits and incredible dodging capabilities, Ygris would have to flying in so fast that there was no possible chance for him to dodge.

'Fly up as high as you can.' Jon told her. Ygris didn't hesitate to follow Jon's guidance and rose up to the clouds, letting the Night King and Viserion slip away from her. Jon half expected them to follow, but luckily that wasn't to be. Ygris' senses allowed her to know where they were, and there wouldn't be much time before they began another attack. Ygris used every once ounce of strength she could to rise higher and higher, her wings burning with exhaustion but empowered by the fight at hand.

'Dive now!' Ygris stopped rising and twisted her body as she began to free fall through the clouds. Through Ygris' mind, Jon could fell where Viserion was as she gained a great amount of speed. Aiming for the path of Viserion, Ygris was like a falling star with nothing that stop her. In this moment of time, neither Jon nor Ygris felt anything but the wind, the snow, and the clouds brushing past them. A sheer moment of bliss before the chaos. 'One day,' Jon thought to Ygris, 'we will fly together in the clouds with no battle or enemies to give a damn about. Just us and the freedom of the sky.' Ygris felt excited just before she burst through the clouds. Viserion wasn't far away and her speed rapidly closed the distance between them.

Ygris triumphantly roared as the Night King finally saw her, the look in his eyes being nothing but surprise. She crashed into Viserion, throwing him in a spiraling fall while attacking at him with everything she had and gripping her talons on his body, easily piercing the decaying dragonhide. Viserion cried out as Ygris tore at his flesh with her fangs, having nothing hold her back. This creature was no dragon, just the husk of one. Ripping at Viserion's neck Ygris tore down to his bones, ripping through everything she could while ignoring the horrible taste of his stale flesh.

Despite her efforts, Ygris made no progress in her attempt to behead Viserion, the constant whipping around in the air preventing her from attacking effectively, so she began to inflict what he did to Rhaegal. Tearing her talon's through the skin of his wings, Ygris crippled Viserion from ever flying again, making him just as vulnerable as Rhaegal was, but she didn't stop there. She sank her teeth in the elbow of the wing and with all her might snapped the bone in half and tore the wing off.

With no possible way to recover from the fall, Ygris released her grip on Viserion and spread her wings to catch air. Just as she let go, Viserion reached his head out and bit down on her tail. She cried out as a great weight pulled her back down to join her in the fall. The pain was not only felt by her, but Jon as well. She tried to thrash around to free herself, but the Viserion's but only tightened the more she did.

Jon began to panic. The dragons were nearing the ground at a very fast fall and they were headed for the trees on the south side of the Wall close to where he was. Jon tried thinking of something to fix this, anything. But against his own desire or will, he was forced out of Ygris' mind by her and returned to himself. He gasped heavily as the exhaustion of warging overtook him for a moment. He looked back up to the sky and saw the two dragons fall over the trees and out of sight. Seconds later, the sound of trees breaking and the ground shaking boomed all around. Without hesitation Jon spurred his horse to gallop into the woods.

"Jon wait!" Benjen called as he, Beric and the rest of the escort followed after him.

Jon would not wait for them. He would not let another dragon die because of him. The trees around them all began to thin out and they came to a small clearing. There were two trees lying on their sides, their roots ripped from the ground and the dirt covering the snow. Away from the trees was Viserion, lying still and covered in wounds. Next to him was Ygris, groaning and slowly getting up.

Jon could feel that she was weak and hurt. As he dismounted, Jon's horse began to act wildly, as did the other horses when their riders dismounted. Jon lost grip of the reigns and his horse ran away from him, the others joining suite. Jon drew Longclaw from its scabbard and stayed alert. The dragons were in sight, but not the Night King.

Beric drew his sword and ignited it in flames while Benjen did the same, except with a strange mace head attached to a long metal chain. The brothers of the Watch wielded dragonglass spears and kept their swords sheathed. Stepping slowly towards the dragons, everything grew ghostly quiet in the clearing. Not the whistling of wind, nor the scrunching of snow beneath their footsteps made a noise.

Ygris rose her head off and starting to shake away any daze she was feeling. But without warning or any indication of intention, Viserion screeched out from his supposed unconsciousness and attacked Ygris. He sank his teeth into her neck and lifted her off the ground and began to viciously thrash her around.

Jon's feet picked off the ground and he ran as fast as he could.

Viserion threw Ygris to the side as he saw Jon coming after him. She landed in the snow and was bleeding heavily from her wounds. Her growls became moans of pain as she lay motionless but barely alive.

Jon raised Longlcaw as Viserion positioned himself and opened his jaws, revealing his teeth. The dragon lunged his head forward at Jon but missed as Benjen tackled out of the way from behind. The others drew Viserion's attention away from them as Benjen grabbed Jon's arm and pulled him away.

"Don't be reckless fool!" Benjen ordered. "You're not gonna kill a dragon like that!"

Jon couldn't help what he just did. She Ygris being attacked like that made him so angry beyond his control. But Benjen was right. Jon had to keep his calm and focus if they were going to live through this. But he also had to get to Ygris, he had to protect her.

Everyone backed from Viserion and kept their distance from him. When the dragon tried to move closer, he failed to notice that the fall broke one of his legs, and without a full wing moving nearly impossible. Viserion's mouth began to glow blue as he prepared to unleash his fire upon them all. But Ygris' attack to his neck open his throat and when Viserion tried to attack, the flames came out of the hole more than his mouth. The fires were weak and uncontrolled, spraying nowhere they were intended.

Viserion began to bang his body around, like he having a fit that he was practically useless now. But he was smart enough to keep close to Ygris so that no one could see to her.

But the moment everyone thought that Viserion was the least of their problems, one of the brothers of the Watch gasped for air suddenly.

They turned to see that a spear of ice was in his back and protruding his chest before he fell flat in the snow. From the direction where the spear came, they all saw four White Walkers approaching, all armed with their weapons of ice.

Jon tightened his grip on Longclaw as two of the White Walkers split from the group and approached him and Benjen who began swinging his chain.

* * *

Daenerys

"Ygris!" Daenerys was unable to contain herself when she saw the two dragons crash into the trees just a mile away from the camps. She turned to Bra,, hoping that he would awaken from his state and say something to them all.

Sure enough, Bran's eyes returned to their brown color and he took a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Bran," Daenerys said, "what happened to Ygris and Viserion? What happened to the Night King?" It pained her to see the dragons fight like they did, and even more so to see them fall out of the sky and crash.

Bran breathed heavily as he spoke. "They're all still alive. Jon was going to try and slay Viserion, but the Night King…" He looked scared for the first time Daenerys knew him, "four White Walkers managed to slip past the armies. He's attacking Jon with everything he can."

"We need to help him." Rickon pleaded. "We need to send some soldiers to where he is."

"They won't make it in time." Bran told him.

"What about Lyarras?" Daenerys asked.

"We can't send her. It's what the Night King wants. While Drogon and Rhaegal are too weak to fight, Ygris and Lyarras will be the keys to his victory if he can turn them into his puppets. If he mages to turn Ygris, then Lyarras is our only hope against her."

That wasn't good enough. Jon didn't have that many with him. Against four White Walkers and the Night King, she couldn't bring herself to believe that even Jon was skilled enough to handle that. "Bran, there has to be something." Daenerys lost Jon one too many times for one life, and she couldn't bear to lose him again. She didn't want their children to be born into the world without their father to see them when they were.

Lyarras started to stir, growing uneasy and growling angrily. She let out a roar and spread out her wings, preparing herself to fly.

"Lyarras!" Daenerys called out and raised her arms, hoping that she could calm her down even without a strong connection to her like Jon had. She knew Lyarras wouldn't harm her and the dragon roared out in frustration when Daenerys got in her way. "Lyarras," Daenerys spoke calmly, reaching out with her feelings to the dragon, "please." Lyarras began to hold still and lowered her head to her, but she could still feel that Lyarras was just as worried as the rest of them.

Daenerys wasn't sure what to do. Everything was so frantic and she needed things to stay calm more than ever, she just wasn't sure how. But then she remembered her first supper with Jon on Dragonstone. 'Do you really sing to your dragons?'

'I do on occasion. It calms me down as much as it does them.'

Daenerys took a deep breath and looked into Lyarras' eyes while caressing her snout. The dragons weren't the only ones Jon sang to to bring peace, and she made sure that she remembered every word of his song.

She let the words flow out of her mouth, serenading the minds of all who could hear her voice. Lyarras stared down at her, her beastly noises turning to deep breaths. Daenerys never understood why, but every time she heard Jon sing to her and their children, the was a magical weight to his voice. She wasn't sure if she had that some presence in hers, but the result of Lyarras holding perfectly still gave her the answer she needed.

Lyarras began to growl at Daenerys, but it was more like a cat's purr. The air around everyone became peaceful and tranquil as the words sank into everyone's spirits.

"He'll come back to us," Daenerys told the dragon, "I know he will."

"He's there," Bran suddenly said, "the Night King."

Daenerys turned to Bran, hoping that he had more to say than just that.

"And Viserion, he's trying to trap Jon."

"Can't you do anything Bran?" Sansa asked.

Without replying, Bran's eyes flashed white and he returned to his warging state.

* * *

Bran

Without a weirwood to give Bran the power to manifest a projection of himself, Bran had to find the mind of an animal to warg into. But every animal had begun to fight back against his control over their minds ever since Viserion and Ygris crashed. The power of the Night King being so close, the instinct of the animals was screaming at them to run away to safety. Nothing would go near the trees as long as that presence was there. Bran's only hope was to warg into the mind of a beast already there. The only problem was that the animal could only be warged by Jon.

Once before, Bran tried warging into the dragon at Winterfell when they were still small. But even then, the will of a dragon was near unbreakable and too much for him to get through, even with all of his power.

Bran found Ygris' consciousness in the clearing. Her mind was weak and exhausted, but she could also feel him trying to enter it. Instead of resisting, Ygris freely let him into her mind, recognizing him and the desiring the comfort a friend's presence. She was in much pain and stricken with bite mate all over her tail and left shoulder. The wounds weren't fatal, but enough that she couldn't resist the urge to rest.

Through her eyes, Bran could witness everything that was happening to everyone.

The White Walkers had just revealed themselves to Jon and the ones with him by killing one of the brothers of the Watch. Everyone prepared to stand against the ice demons, ignoring Viserion as he no longer posed such a great threat to them and was nearly immobile. But Ygris knew that wasn't true. Viserion had the strength and position to lunge forward, but his target had to get closer, and that Target was Jon.

Before the brother who was killed could rise up as a wight, one of the other men of the Watch stabbed the dragonglass head of his spear into his body. Another one of them charged forward at the two Walkers with his spear, not recklessly, but the attack was easily dodged and the spear shattered by a sword of ice cutting through the middle of the shaft. The brother was then decapitated and fell limply into the snow by the time Beric and the other brothers all charged together rather than one at a time.

Beric's flaming sword clashed with the blades of ice, the magic of the fire engulfing the blade kept the steel from shattering. But such magic was not sufficient enough to harm the White Walkers. Two of the other brothers were both impaled at the same time, the blade of ice cutting through their black chainmail like thin parchment before shattering the metal. But with the last bits of life, the brother closest to the White Walker drew his dragonglass dagger and stuck it into the White Walker's arm, destroying the creature and the dagger as they all collapsed. Beric and the last remaining brother of the Watch were locked in a stalemate with the last White Walker they faced, but the same couldn't be said for Jon and Benjen.

A white Walker wielding an ice lance took the vanguard while the other one, dual wielding ice swords, took the rear. Benjen swung his flaming chain head over his head like a Dothraki lasso and let the weight of the steel launch a powerful blow at the White Walker in front of him. It tried to brush the chain to the side with its spear, but there was enough slack that it wrapped itself around the shaft. Benjen pulled the chain with all of his strength and pulled the spear free of the White Walker's hands and caught it in his. Unlike anyone of the living, Benjen's hands did not turn into frozen flesh, allowing him to grasp the weapon. But it being of no use against the dead, Benjen threw it to the side away from the White Walker and continued attacking with his flaming chain.

Jon on the other hand rang the air with the sound of Valyrian steel against the swords of ice. He took the offensive at the start, but the strength of the White Walker turned him to take the defense. Constantly striking for Jon's legs, the Walker forced him to retreat backwards, closer to Viserion.

The two weapons against one was no great obstacle for Jon, as he was experienced at fighting Wildlings who also dual wielded weapons, but the White Walkers speed was ever so slightly faster than his. Jon parried a strike down to his body with longclaw but was nearly hit from the side by the other sword. He was able to dodge it, but the edge of the ice blade grazed his right pauldron, freezing the metal and cracking it into pieces that feel into the snow.

Ignoring the loss of his armor, Jon parried a thrust to his body and spun his body against the White walker's now behind it. Instantly, Jon sliced Longclaw across the White Walker's back, shattering it into bits of ice. But what he didn't realize was how close he was to Viserion.

Ygris saw the undead dragon reveal its teeth, remaining unnoticed by Jon for what little time he had. She wanted to move, but she too tired to move.

'You can do it Ygris!' Bran told her through thoughts. 'You have to move! You have to save Jon!'

As Viserion arched his neck back, Jon finally noticing but too close for it to matter, Ygris summoned a phantom strength in her body and roared out as she jumped forward as tackled the undead dragon. Her senses were going blank with nothing but exhaustion, yet she still managed to continue to fight.

Wrestling with Viserion, Ygris bit down hard onto the wound in Viserion's neck and let a burst stream of fire into the wound. Her flames went into both Viserion's body and exiting his mouth. Viserion went limp in the snow, but still in his undead state. Ygris snarled as she eyed Viserion's neck and began to ravage her jaws into the rotting dragon flesh, tearing away all she could. When she reached the bone, She used every bit of her will to gather strength and crushed the spine. Teeth still gripping on bone, Ygris jerked her head and tore Viserion's neck from his body, completely decapitating him. With that done, the blue of Viserion's eyes fade away and turned into a pale white instead. Finally, Viserion was dead and free of the Night King's control.

Benjen was able to wrap his chain around the neck of a Walker and pulled it off its feet to the snow. Before it could get up, Bejen brandished one of two dragonglass daggers he had and stabbed it into the Walker's neck, turning it into ice.

The brother of the Watch who was with Beric was killed but set aflame by Beric before he locked weapons with it. Each trying to overpower the other, the White Walker nearly succeeded had Benjen not ran up behind the Walker and planted the dagger into the Walker's shoulder, breaking it and destroying the dagger.

With all the White Walkers dead, Jon, Benjen, and Beric took a moment to catch their breaths.

Jon looked up to Ygris and he could see how tired she was. Her body was screaming for rest and she was panting heavily for air, not finding enough in each breath.

But there was a still moment that she forgot all the fatigue and the pain in her body when Jon smiled at her. It comforted her mind and let her know that everything was alright.

But a sudden pain shot through her back and exited her chest and nothing but waves of cold began to extinguish the heat inside of her. Ygris gazed down and saw one of the White Walker's spears sticking through her chest, freezing the blood that spilled from her wound.

Jon became absolutely horrified and let began to yell in despair at her as she lost all feeling inside of her and collapsed to the ground.

Bran's link was severed and he materialized into his unseeable self on top of the dragons' bodies even without the use of a weirwood. His body felt colder than freezing and the falling snow began to blow by harder and becoming a blizzard.

"Bran look out!" Benjen shouted.

Bran turned around and the last thing he saw were the glowing blue eyes and curved ice blade of the Night King slashing down at him.

* * *

Daenerys

The white of Bran's eyes began to have a certain glow to them and his grip on the arms of his chair began to tighten, digging into the wood.

Without any form of warning, Bran's eyes clenched shut and he let out a blood curdling scream of pain. It only lasted for a second before he slumped down into his chair, unmoving like the dead but breathing softly.

"Bran!" Sansa and Rickon exclaimed in unison. The two of them knelt down their brother, checking his state to see if he was dead, dying, or something else.

"Bran, wake up!" Sansa yelled out, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She held his face softly in her hands and shook him lightly. "Please wake up!"

"Somebody get a maester!" Edric shouted as Sansa and Rickon both began to sob for their brother.

Daenerys looked over in the direction the dragons feel, praying with every bit of her sould that her love could hear her words. "Jon, please hurry."

* * *

 

Benjen

The image of Bran that stood atop the dragons became nothing but faded bits of himself, like ashes blowing through the wind, and the Night King stood in his place, glaring down at him and Jon. The tiniest of smirks could be seen in the corners of the Night King's mouth. He lost one dragon, but he would soon get another if he wasn't defeated here and now.

Standing next to Jon who was still on his knees, Benjen reeled his chain back into his hands. He picked Jon up by the arm and pulled him to his feet. "A king doesn't kneel to false royalty." He told Jon.

Beric joined him and Jon and together the three of them faced the Night King, ready to end this or die trying.

Jon undid his sword belt and tossed the scabbard aside, not wanting anything to become an obstruction. His blood boiled and had more right than anyone to be furious. As long as he used his emotion to fuel his skill and not blind it, then they might stand a chance.

The Night King jumped down from Ygris' body and slowly started to walk towards them. Before he got any closer, the Night King knelt down to the snow and picked up the spear of ice Benjen disarmed from the White Walker he faced and now wielded a heavy weapon in each hand, but for a creature with unnatural strength and speed, it was going to make this worse.

"Lord of Light," Beric started as he gripped his flaming sword in both hands, preparing to face whatever battle was about to ensue, "guide hands true in this fight that we may find the dawn. Let the evil of the world feel the burning of your flames and never forget their touch. For tonight is dark, and the terrors are before us."

The Night King began to pick up his pace and started a slow jog. He raised the spear in front of him and the curved sword above his head in a stance both offensive and defensive.

Benjen began to swing his chain around, waiting for any indication of who would attack or be attacked first. Beric took the first steps forward and advanced to meet the Night King, Jon moving to the side to perhaps attack the flank.

Letting out a loud battle cry, Beric charged forward and immediately swung at the Night King, but his hopes of taking an offensive stand were denied as he was instantly defending himself. He parried strikes from every direction the could possibly come from, nearly being overwhelmed.

But Jon come up from behind in hopes to take the Night King off his guard. But without even looking, the Night King blocked Jon's strike and started to fight both of them with incredible skill. The demon of ice ducked and moved in ways that were inhuman and impossible for any living man. But he was neither living nor man and had no limits as far as anyone could tell.

Benjen finally joined the fight and swung his chain forward, aiming for the Night King's arm wielding the spear attacking Beric. But even when fighting two skilled warriors, the Night King parried the fiery chain head with his curved sword and knocked it into the snow. Benjen got closer to the duel and reeled his chain again, hoping that he would do better next time. The Night King practically ignored him as he got closer and kept his attention on Jon and Beric.

Beric was able to strike his sword on the Night King's arm, but it had absolutely no effect, the blade only scraping on the black armor. The Night King locked eyes with him for an instance before slicing his spear at him. Beric was far enough that the blade wouldn't reach his body, but the strength of the swing cut through his sword, breaking it in half. The Night King proceeded to kick his foot hard on Beric's breastplate, both shattering it and knocking him into the air. Beric hit a large tree trunk and fell hard into the snow, unconscious and out of the fight.

As the fires of the pieces of Beric's sword diminished, Benjen swung his chain at the Night King again. This time he aimed it for the Night King's legs, hoping that his attacks on Jon would keep him from blocking the head. The chain successfully wrapped around his leg and locked itself. But when Benjen tried to pull, the Night King twisted his body and stepped his free foot on the slack of the chain. Blocking a thrush from Jon, he bashed Jon in the chest and knocked him to the side. Jon began to gasp for air as the wind was knocked out of him, but still managed to keep his guard up.

Stabbing his spear into the ground, the Night King grabbed hold of the chain and pulled with the strength of a giant. Benjen foolishly kept his rip on the chain and was pulled off his feet. The Night King shook the chain off his foot and began to spin Benjen around as if he was playing a game.

Benjen landed in the snow hard and heard a loud pop in his arm. He grunted heavily as the chain slipped through his hands and he finally stopped moving. Cover head to toe in snow, Benjen looked at his arm and saw that his elbow was bent the wrong way.

He fought back at the pain as he got to his feet and drew his last dagger of dragonglass. The Night King held the chain in his hands and only took a few seconds to shatter it completely into tiny pieces of steel and iron.

Jon was still recovering, and wide open for an attack despite his effort to protect himself.

Benjen realized that this fight was only going to end one way, and that was between Jon and the Night King. But he needed to buy his nephew some time, even if it was only just a few seconds. Snapping his arm back into place, Benjen let the pain fuel his war cry as he charged at the Night King with only his his dagger.

As if mocking Benjen, the Night King didn't even arm himself. He just stood where he was and waited for Benjen empty handed.

With reached, Benjen swung the dagger as fast as he possibly could. The Night King dodged every swing and thrust Benjen gave to him. Though he could land a strike, Benjen could see Jon catching his breath finally, proving his efforts were not fruitless.

But that small distraction was the moment the Night King grabbed Benjen's arm and held it tightly. Benjen dropped the dagger and felt his skin begin to freeze instantly. With his other hand, the Night King thrusted it like a spear into Benjen's chest. Benjen cried out before he stared at the Night King dead in his eyes.

"I'll see you burning in hell." Benjen grunted out before the Night King pulled his hand out of Benjen's chest. In it was the dragonglass that the Children of the Forest put in Benjen's heart to keep him alive.

"Uncle Benjen!" Jon called out.

Tossing the dragonglass aside, the Night King then threw Benjen away from him. But Benjen was already dead before he landed in the snow, limp as a wet rag. Now all that remained was Jon and the Night King.

* * *

Jon

Rising to his feet, Jon's grip on Longclaw tightened as the rest of his body finally relaxed. Everyone was gone, only he and the Night King remained.

Jon looked down to his uncle Benjen's body and was unsure how to feel. His uncle was trapped in that decaying state for years and now he finally got to rest, but Jon wasn't quite ready to say goodbye. Then there was Ygris. Watching he get skewered by the spear and collapsing killed a part of him inside. But he could still feel that she was alive, just barely. If he didn't end this, then she was going to die without a doubt. One thing was clear, he was angry. Or at least he thought he was.

Jon glared at the Night King and the two of them stared at each other, letting a stillness ensue around them. The sounds of battle silenced out and the cold of the air diminished as the two of them locked eyes and absorbed the stature of the other. As he looked into the depths of the evil blue color, Jon could feel his hands starting to shake. He didn't take his eyes away from the Night King to look, but he didn't need to to realize he was afraid.

'Why now?' Jon asked himself in his thoughts. 'I've faced him before… but never like this.' In his heart, Jon didn't want to fight alone. He didn't know if he could win if he was alone. If he lost then everything would be lost. With Ygris the Night King would have all the power he would need to win. Lyarras was still in condition to fight, but Jon knew that she would lose if she was by herself. And after she died, the armies would die, Arya, Sansa, Rickon, Bran… and Daenerys. Jon felt a cold run through his very soul imagining Daenerys with the blue eyes of the dead.

His thoughts began to corrupt his mind with doubt and sorrow. He had to be brave now, but how was a man supposed to be brave when he was so afraid?

'That is the only time a man can be brave.' His father's voice sounded in his head, breaking through his thoughts and silencing his worry.

Jon felt relaxed hearing the words of his father as if he was standing right next to him. All those things, Lyarras, the armies, his family, Daenerys, protecting them was all he needed to be brave. He wasn't going to die again, not unless he was with Daenerys at her side and she was far away so that wasn't about to happen.

Jon took the first step forward, gritting his teeth and leaving everything he felt behind him, only letting his courage guide his actions.

Wielding only the curved ice sword, the Night King began to approach Jon, walking just a bit faster than he was.

Jon raised up Longclaw at the same time the Night King raised his weapon, and the two blades clashed into one another, ringing and signifying the fateful duel between two kings had begun.

Jon ducked underneath a swing from the Night King, the blade barely missed him except for a bit of his hair. His movements and style of swordplay for this were unlike anything he'd ever done before. His stance was more shifted and this felt more like a duel against survival rather than any other opponent he ever faced. He knew that this creature before him had no honor, no mercy, and no weakness. But despite that, Jon didn't let his blade streak through the air to meet the Night King's without honor. He was everything the Night King could be, and he would let himself be any less than that.

Blocking a strike from above, Jon locked Longclaw with the ice sword and pushed forward with all his strength. The Night King was nearly a foot away from his face and bore his teeth, showing Jon that he too was using every bit of strength as well. Jon could feel himself being over powered, so he spun his body and slipped out of the lock. The Night King stumbled forward, but only by a couple of steps and recovered rapidly as he dodged a swing from Jon.

Jon kept throwing his strikes at the Night King, making sure each one was true and not reckless. All his opponent could do was block and retreat backwards. Jon finally realized that this was the first time he ever took the offensive against the Night King and held it.

With a sharp thrust of his sword, Jon nearly pierced the tip to the Night King, but the attack was dodged quick enough that only the Night King's armor was torn slightly.

The Night King backed away from Jon and looked at the blow he took, astonished that it was the first one of any kind he ever took. He looked back at Jon with those same eyes Jon saw at Hardhome when he killed his first White Walker with Longclaw.

Jon took deep breaths, keeping himself calm and determined as the Night King returned to meet him. The next swing Jon had parry, but doing it made him realize the Night King was attacking much faster now. His movements put himself in Jon's line of reach more frequently. It was like he didn't care about being killed at all but just killing Jon, and he was taking greater risks to do it.

The song of clashing steel Longclaw made kept ringing throughout the clearing. Neither one of the two fighters were finding the moments they needed to land the final blow on the other.

Jon was faced with a slash aimed for his head and raised Longlcaw in time to black and stop it. But the curve of the ice sword bended to towards him and the Night King pushed his arms in a small motion that moved the blade greatly. The edge cut at the left side of Jon's face next to his ear and then through his gorget that shattered at the touch of the weapon.

Jon felt a burning cold beginning to spread from the cut he took. It traveled to his teeth to his eyes and even to his scalp.

His blood began to pump hot through his veins as he attacked more furiously at the Night King.

Dodging a vertical slash, Jon spun his body and held Longclaw in both hands, using all the momentum of his spin combined with the strength of his arms. He let out a roar like Tormund would and met the Night King's blade. But this time the Valyrian steel cut through and shatter the ice sword like the ice that was.

Both Jon and the Night King had an instantaneous second of disbelief before Jon raised Longclaw and swung it down as fast as he could, aiming the sword right for the crown upon the false king's head.

But as fast as he was, the Night King was faster. He dropped his broken weapon and caught Jon's arms midair by his halfgaunts, shattering them only seconds later and gripping Jon's sleeves. The cold touch of the Night King began to sink into the leather and the fabric, stealing the heat of Jon's arms. But Jon wasn't giving into pain just because of that. He continued to press down and had the advantage of his stance, which meant that the sword was inching closer.

Mere inches away, the Night King led Jon's strike away and let the fall take him off balance. The Night King released Jon before landing a punch square in Jon's chest. The force was so strong that it knocked Jon backwards, making him stumble and fall a few feet away and drop Longclaw just out of his reach.

The night King picked up one his commanders weapons, a regular sword of ice, that was only a step away from him and gripped it in both hands.

Jon's eyes widened as he realized that this was it, he failed. Or at least, he thought he did.

From behind the Night King, Beric jumped and wrapped his arms around and immobilized him. In one hand Beric had the top half of his sword and ran the blade on his other arms, cutting deep and beginning to bleed heavily.

"Lord of Light!" Beric called out. "Ignite us with your fury on that which evil!" Beric's blood turned to golden flames that rapidly began to engulf both him and the Night King.

To Jon's surprise, the Night King began to yell out, not in pain but annoyance and struggle as he continued to fail breaking free of Beric.

"What are you waiting for!?" Beric shouted at Jon, making him realize that this was his only chance.

Jon scrambled to his feet and gripped Longclaw in his hand and charged forward, yeeling out like the wolf and the dragon he was. Every step in the snow felt a like a hammer on an anvil, forging the path to one thing that matter here and now. Everything else that was and ever will be was just a destraction until this moment of time passed.

Thrusting Longclaw, Jon rammed the blade into the Night King's stomach and forcing it to exit his back and into Beric. But instead of a cry of pain from Beric, he mearly smiled at Jon and faded into his fire, leaving no trace of himself behind.

The Night King began to scream out as the magic of Longclaw began to crack his skin slowly and bits of him shattering off. He dropped his ice sword and backhanded Jon back into the snow, unable to pull any strength or reasoning to take Jon with him.

Jon sat himself up as he watched the Night King try and pull Longclaw out of his body.

The cold hands gripped the hilt of the sword, but shatter the wood of the handle, the steel of the guard, and the wolf head pommel, leaving nothing but the sword's tang. He tried to grab ahold of that but when his fingers wrapped around the Valyrian steel, they all cracked off and turned into tiny bit of ice small than snow. The cracks in the Night King's body began to emanate a light as they grew bigger. He looked at Jon and let out another loud howl of pain before he exploded into nothing but cold air.

A n incredible gust of wind rushed past Jon and blew through the trees to the fighting armies. The force of the wind was greater than anything he had ever felt and Jon wondered what kind of effect it would bring to the dead.

* * *

Arya

Stabbing Blackfyre into an approaching wight's skull, Arya quickly pulled it out so she could kill another as fast as possible. Fighting without stop was the only thing she could do to take her mind off of the pain in her arm.

Nymeria growled from behind her and tackled a wight that attempted to kill Arya while she wasn't looking.

Ayra dodged a heavy axe with ease and sank her sword into the chest of the wielder. "Thanks girl." Arya said.

"I wish I had a direwolf like her." Gendry commented as he repeatedly back a wights skull in. The dragonglass of his hammer had all cracked and broke off so he was reduced to using the steel side.

Arya felt tired and soon her arms felt like heavy rocks. She never fought this long in her life and never expected to. She loved to fight but doing all of this made her hate battles. She began panting for air as she could see more wights coming her and Gendry's way. Her grip on Blackfyre started to loosen, unable to find the strength to keep holding onto it.

All of the sudden a great blast of air rushed past everyone like a powerful wave of water. Blackfyre flew out of Arya's hand and stuck into the snow. When the gust hit the dead, they all began to instantly collapse all around. From all around inhuman screeches could be heard coming from the White Walkers. They were on their knees and clawed at their chests before exploding into piles of shattered ice.

Arya and Gendry both looked all around them, looking to see if what just happened happened everywhere. And sure enough, the only people standing were alive and doing the same as them, confused and cautious.

Like a rock thrown at her head, Arya finally realized the glorious reality. "It's over." She said as she gathered her breath and couldn't resist but smile. They won.

She looked over to Gendry and saw that he was just as happy as she was, but a few seconds later their smiles died as they both looked into each other's eyes.

Gendry dropped his hammer and the two of them pulled each other into themselves and they met their lips together, finally having their first kiss.

'Gods' Arya thought, 'why haven't we done this sooner?' She reveled the warmth of being held in Gendry's arms, but found that his lips were much warmer and refused to them him go.

Someone began to cheer when everyone else finally realized that they achieved victory, and all-around others join and bellowed their joy out of their lungs as loud as they could. They wanted to let the world know that they won, and they were alive.

"Girl!" A familiar heavy voice called through the cheering.

Arya and Gendry stopped kissing and turned to see Sandor approaching them, looking disgusted at their passion in the middle of a battlefield.

Despite that, Arya couldn't help but feel incredible grateful that he was alive. "I thought the dragonfire got you." She told him.

"You think I would let fire be what fucking kills me?" He stabbed Heartsbane into the snow and rested his hand on the pommel. "I won't die like that and not without a fight."

Arya smiled up at him but didn't receive one back. But she didn't care, not as long as she finally had Gendry and they won.

Arya's eyes looked past Sandor and Saw a soldier kneeling in the snow, cradling a dead man in his arms. It slipped her mind and the gravity of reality started to weigh on her as she looked around and saw others on the ground, looking for those they knew.

With great victory came terrible loss.

* * *

Jon

After the great roar of victory died down, Jon got to his feet and walked over to where the Night King had fallen. Resting atop the snow was Longclaw, or at least what remained of it. The blade was broken in half and the top was nowhere to be seen. Kneeling down, Jon sifted through the snow to make sure that without a doubt that the Night King was gone. He felt his fingers touch something hard and sharp. Carefully pulling out the object, Jon found a shard of dragonglass in the snow. He eyed it curiously, as if looking at it for the first time.

His heart stopped when a gently growl was made. Jon looked up and saw Ygris slightly moving. Her eyes were partially closed and she looked terrible.

"Ygris!" Jon tossed the dragonglass aside and ran to his dragon, praying to every god with his heart that she was going to be alright. He collapsed to his knees at her head in full view of her eyes that was looking up at him. "Ygris…" he croaked out, feeling sorrow overcome him. He placed his arms on her head and softly caressed her skin. "We did it." Jon told her. "We won." Ygris didn't make a sound, but her eye kept slowly blinking like she was falling asleep. "You're going to be alright now," he told her as tears weld up in his eyes. He looked at her body and saw that she stopped bleeding, but not because her wounds were healing. He looked back at her and started to realize the reality of her condition. "We can go home now… to Winterfell… we'll fly above the castle together… we can go home."

He felt his connection with Ygris slipping away. She looked directly into his eyes and he could tell she knew he wasn't telling the truth. On the last moments he felt her, Ygris' eyes closed and her soft breaths faded away into nothing, leaving her lifeless, but not alone.

Jon laid his head on Ygris and wished that there was something that he could've done to save her. But he kept remembering that miracles had their limits, even with him.

His tears began to fall from his face onto his dragon as he held her in his arms, not wanting to let go.

Through some premonition, he looked up at the sky and saw the snow had stopped and the clouds were starting to clear away in a great speed. Revealing the stars they hid and the light of the moon.

"It's over." Jon whispered softly.


	72. Harry I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this could have been better, but its the best I could do.

Harry

After a full week of snowstorms, King's Landing was finally graced with clear skies and a warm sun. Many in the streets would come outside to bask in the heat that was absent for months. It wasn't as hot as an early spring sun, but warm nonetheless. It was interesting to see the people be in such high moods when they didn't realize how deep in horse shit they really were.

While regular shipments of raided food from the Reach were being brought to the city, there were still too many mouths to feed. Everyday there were more than a dozen bodies lying dead in the streets from the cold or starvation. But it wasn't the littering bodies that was turning the city into a hellhole. Unbeknownst to the people, the bodies were taken away by the Gold Cloaks to a place everyone thought to be a burial of sorts. But in reality, the bodies were butchered into 'goat' meat and fed to the people. The Queen made it absolutely impossible for whispers of what really happened to leak out to the ears of the people. But given how starving everyone was, they probably wouldn't even care.

Harry and the Golden company were spared from such barbarianism and cruelty since they were under the employ of the Queen. In fact they and the Gold cloaks and a select few in court were the only ones who received the food from the Reach. But resolving to this just to hold onto power was beyond ridiculous and insanity. Harry Strickland was finally beginning to wonder whether or not he should have followed Jon's advice. But now that the Wildfire was in place, there was no chance of betrayal and with Jon's rotting skull decorating the walls of the Red Keep next to a few hundred others, there was no surety that any thoughts put into words no matter how quiet or secluded would go unheard.

In his regular time, Harry would've been spending the afternoon discussing and planning the defense of the city with his other men, against the dead or the living if they were victorious. But a summons from the Queen cut his time with his men short as he was now walking to the small council room relocated behind the Iron Throne.

The number of people dwindled too few compared to how many chairs were around the table. Only four seats were actually used. One by Qyburn, who was the Hand of the Queen, Master of Whispers, and acting as the maester to the Throne, remaining as silent as he usually was unless he had something to say. Euron Greyjoy, or Ironjaw as Harry's men would call. After his failure at Pyke, he returned with only about a hundred or so ships filled with crew who were idiotically loyal to him. Qyburn's work on his face was probably the best in the world, but still it was horrific to look at. The blade that was shoved up from the bottom of his jaw was near irremovable and cut into his right eye, permanently blinding him. The blade was filed away as much as possible, freeing his mouth to open and close. But he had to have a piece of metal nailed into his jawbone to keep it from breaking and he could only eat foods he didn't have to chew.

And then there was the Queen. Her hair had been growing steadily and it was long enough that she finally gave it some style of hairdo. But ever since her brother left, she had been acting differently. Every week she would take a lover into her bed and then have him killed simply because she grew bored of them, the next victim unaware of his eventual fate. Euron knew and didn't seem to care seeing as how he and his men took over the best brothel in the city and constantly raped the whores. One poor girl exclusive to Euron fell pregnant and he had her tongue cut out so she could never speak the name of the father.

But the worst change in the Queen was her eyes. The jade green color of them would sometimes flicker in the light and make it seem like Wildfire was burning inside them. Ser Gregor stood vigil behind her, as lifeless as ever.

Harry took his seat next to Qyburn and waited for someone to explain why they were having their first council meeting in months.

"Captain Strickland," Cersei said, "so glad you could join us." Her words were calm, but every syllable had a volume of poison in them. "Apologies for interrupting your meeting, but today we have news that concerns all of us." She nodded to Qyburn who revealed a small scroll from his robes.

"This came from one of our spies in North last night." Qyburn informed.

"Wha's is say?" Euron asked, unable to pronounce his words properly.

Qyburn grew a sly smile as if he was proud of what the scroll said. "The dead have been defeated."

Harry felt a wave of satisfaction come over him. He had his doubts that any army would be able to stand against those creatures, but the Targaryens succeeded. And now he would have to face them on the battlefield. At least, he would if Cersei was unable to force their surrender with the city as her hostage. And now with this knowledge, the weapons of dragonglass made for his men were no longer needed.

"Is that it?" Harry asked.

"No, Captain Strickland, there is more. A report on the battle. One of the dragons fell and the united armies suffered heavy losses and many injured."

"Seven hells," Harry said aloud, "the number of dead must be catastrophic."

"Is there a report on the Targaryens?" Cersei asked, unfazed by the number of dead.

"Alive and unharmed. One of the Starks however took some form of injury. Brandon Stark is bedridden and unable to wake from sleep."

Cersei failed to contain a chuckle. "Then his rumored visions were heard of is of no use to the bastard and the dragon whore. We must act now before the boy recovers."

"Excuse me, your Grace." Harry interrupted, "but the truce with the Targaryens is still in effect. They have two months to mourn their dead and two months to rest and let the armies not sworn to them disperse and return home. If we act now, we'll be violating the terms you agreed upon."

"I am aware of what I agreed upon, Captain. But I'm surprised that you would actually think that I would honor terms with usurpers and bastards. I gave them peace to defeat the dead, and the dead are defeated. Which brings me to the next order of business."

The sound of approaching footsteps entered the room and everyone turned to see a man in ragged armor, wearing a arakh at his side enter the council room. He was a sellsword without a doubt, most likely from the companies hiding in Dorne.

"Thank you for coming as fast as you did, Captain-"

"I'm no captain, your grace." The man said, "I'm just a sellsword."

Harry stood up from his seat, fists clenched and knuckles whitening. "I never thought I would see you here. Come to sell your blade then use it on the buyer, Naharis?"

Daario chuckled as he took a seat next to Euron. "Not this time Strickland. In fact my pockets are the only ones that weren't given gold to fill. My price is far more valuable than any money you have to offer."

"You can't fool me." Harry turned his attention to the Queen. "He betrayed the masters and gave his allegiance to Daenerys Targaryen. You can't expect him to stay loyal to you when we're about to be on the brink of war!"

"Sit, down!" Cersei said firmly through her teeth.

Harry did as he was ordered but kept his eyes on Daario Naharis who was smirking at him.

The Queen regained her composer and continued to speak. "Daario Naharis has promised his loyalty and his men to us and in return he will receive fair payment."

"And what is this fair payment, if I might ask?" Harry inquired.

Daario chuckled at him. "Let's just say there's something in the North that was taken from me, and I want her back."

It didn't take long for Harry to add things up and finally understood why he would fight for Cersei. "And you're going to allow a Targaryen to live through all this, especially one with carrying two male heirs in her?"

"He has experience with the dragons at their large size and knowledge of how to defeat them," Cersei informed, "In exchange for that and his men, I have agreed to give him the dragon whore as payment."

"And as for those bastards of hers," Daario interjected, "The day the enter this world, they'll go to Ser Gregor over there for safe keeping."

Safe keeping, obviously another way for him to say to be killed like the last Targaryen children. "And you believe him?" Harry asked.

Daario scoffed Harry. "You right. I plan on leading my three thousand men against sixty thousand and seize the city before the Targaryens even get here. How did you see through my master plan?" The only one who got a laugh out of Daario's sarcasm was Euron. "The biggest problems we'll face on the field will be the Dothraki and the Dragons. I've ridden with the Dothraki and I know how to beat them. As for the dragons, I know how they attack and when the perfect moment will be to use the scorpions you have."

As much as Harry didn't want to accept it, Daario Naharis might be the best hope they have at beating the Targaryens.

"Then we mustn't delay any further," Cersei said. "Qyburn, send word to the companies in Dorne. Inform them that the time has come to begin their contracts."

"At once, your Grace. And when should I inform them to start?"

"Sunspear, Starfall, and Hornhill."

Hornhill?" Harry asked, confused. "The Tarly's are declared for you."

"Randyl Tarly declared for me and he is nothing but ash in the wind. His damn widow is planning on declaring the Reach for the Targaryens. We must remind the rulers of the Kingdoms what happens to those that betray the throne."

"And should I inform our guest to begin his task as well?"

Cersei's guest. Harry began to regret telling her about the friends he had in Braavos. Especially the one from the House of Black and White.

"No, he will wait until the companies arrive at the capitol with their prizes."

"As you wish, your Grace."

"As for you, Euron," Cersei looked directly at him, "our naval strength is far outnumbered to stand a chance. Is there a way for you to remedy your mistake?"

Euron was angry, but he did well not to show it. "I can redake some of the shibs my niesh and nephew shtole from me. They've splid the fleed and docked ad Whide Habor, Easdwash by the Sea, and Dorrhen's Square. Bud withoud the men do crew the ships, id won'd madder."

"If you can acquire the ships, then I will get you the men to crew them." Cersei said confidently as she stood from her seat. "This counsel is adjourned. Captain Strickland, a word in private?"

Everyone stood up from the table and left the room while Harry followed Cersei and Ser Gregor to the balconies overlooking the Godswood. The walkway was swept clean of snow

"I can imagine you have certain disagreements with my methods." Cersei sated, not far from the truth.

"May I speak freely?" Harry asked.

"If you wish." She challenged.

"I may be a sellsword, but I try to have a sense of honor. We Know that Dorne is planning to stay out of remainder of the war and many of the lords of the Westerlands and Crownlands are still loyal to you. If you break the truce, then you'll incur the wrath of the whole country against you."

"And if we honor the truce, what then? We allow our enemies to heal and recover to their full strength? I will show the world that those who challenge the throne will fear what they face. Their leaders will break and their armies crumble."

"And if they should rally for vengeance rather than cower out of fear, what then? The Targaryens rose up to lead the greatest army the world has ever seen and fought for it while we sat idly by."

"I have no doubt that the Targaryens will demand revenge for the fools that follow them. But they won't be alive long enough to make such demands."

"Does that mean you were lying to Daario Naharis about Daenerys Targaryen?"

"He can have her, but only after she watches her bastard husband burn alive and Ser Gregor crush the skulls of the dragonspawn she carries. Then, and only when the last light of hope leaves her eyes will I extend mercy to those that remember who the true Queen of Westeros is."

"I don't think the rest of the Kingdoms will believe that you have any mercy. The only Lannisters they trust seem to be your brothers."

"You think I am without mercy?"

He knew he couldn't say no without insinuating a negative response from her with a terrible consequence behind it. "No, but the lack of honor keeps you from showing it."

She laughed at his response to her. "I've shown it, you just haven't seen it. For instance, you're still breathing and your head not a spike with the traitors you let out of the city. And did you honestly think you could smuggle my brother out of the city without me knowing?" She stopped walking and looked out to the oceans, wearing a deadly smirk. "The only reason you're still alive is because our contract will break if I kill you. And If you die, then what purpose will your men have of staying here?"

Harry found himself cornered. All this time he's been nothing more than a pawn in this entire scheme. But the thing that shocked him was that he allowed himself to stay that way. And now, he couldn't be anything else but that.

"That will be all, Captain Strickland. I leave you to your own time." Cersei and Ser Gregor left Harry standing in his place. He was the leader of the strongest Sellsword company in Essos, but this entire time he's been nothing but a fool.

Heading back inside the Red Keep, the first person Harry saw was Daario Naharis who was waiting for him.

"Have a lovely chat with the Queen?"

"Fuck off Naharis." Harry walked past him without giving a second glance.

"So hostile to an old friend. What did I ever do to deserve such treatment?" Daario asked while slowly following Harry.

"We were never friends, Naharis. Now for the last time, fuck off."

"Why should I? Unlike you I want to be here. All the excitement is about to happen and I'm going to see it all."

Harry finally turned around and faced Daario who continued looking as smug as ever. "And when the excitement arrives at the gates of the city, what then? I'm sure the Queen told you about what she has hidden under the streets of the city and what she plans to do if she faces nothing but loss when the Targaryens arrive."

"The Wildfire? Of course I know. But I don't care, because I will be the one to defeat the remains of the 'greatest army the world has ever seen.' I don't even need you and your army to do it."

Harry failed to contain his laughter. He didn't have the ability to know when someone was lying to him, but he did know when words were nothing but horseshit. The armies Cersei had were less than half of what the Targaryens probably have remaining. And they still had three dragons.

"Go ahead and laugh. Someone like you probably finds laughter hard to come by. But then you'll realize the advantage we have against them that secures our victory."

"And what is that Daario? Arrogance or lies?"

"A bit of both actually, but more importantly, it's actually something we don't have, but you and the Targaryens have. It's called a sense of honor." Harry's amusement disappeared and Daario's smirk grew slightly bigger. "Daenerys has been around the bastard king for too long. She used to be a queen to be feared and loved at the same time. But once all memory of her husband is gone, she'll come to who she was when I knew her."

"You honestly think that killing her husband and her children will bring her to have affection for you?"

"She only married him to gain the support of the North. She even told me herself that she planned on sealing alliances with marriage. As far as I'm concerned, those children she has are nothing but an obstacle she has to endure."

Harry shook his head at Daario, unable to believe how oblivious and overconfident he was being. "You're an even bigger fool than me, Naharis."

"Maybe. But I'm still smarter than you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a special meeting with the Queen, and I have yet to discover what the cunt of a lion feels like." Daario patted Harry on his shoulder and left him standing alone and angry in the throne room.

"Arrogant man, if I must say." Qyburn said as he appeared from behind the pillar he hid behind. "I personally have no doubt of his ambitions to fight for the Queen. But I can't understand why he believes that she'll spare the Dragon Queen."

The mere idea of Cersei letting Daenerys Targaryen or any Targaryen live was complete nonsense. The fact that Daario was too thick in the head to realize it was just astounding.

"I don't understand you, Qyburn." Harry admitted. "Why do you still serve Cersei? She's has the city ready to be destroyed with everyone in it at her command, but you don't seem like the kind of man who is willing to do for his Queen and country."

"Believe me, Captain Strickland, I don't plan on dying in this city. But my research to understand that which we do not keeps me here."

"And what is it you're trying to understand? Magic long forgotten? Better ways to zombify people like the Mountain?"

"I gave up on magic when I was stripped of my chain at the Citadel. But Zombification is the only thing I study and practice. "In these times, understanding war and battle is at the utmose concern. Things like practically and reason are another. And then there is people. Take yourself, for example. You could order your men to sack the city and betray Cersei and we would have no chance of resistance should the Wildfire fail to light in time. I can't believe that a contract and honor are what truly keep you as an obedient animal to his master. So the only thing left is the gold and pride. I've heard that before the Queen hired the Golden Company, it was on the brink of collapse and dispersing into different factions of Mercenary companies. The only battles you've been in were only won because of surrender. You even have yet to lead a charge and stain your blade with blade for the first time. You were born into your band of mercenaries, giving you an emotional attachment to your men. This job was the only chance you had to keep things together-"

Qyburn was cut off by a tight hand around his neck and being slammed against the pillar. Two of the Queensguard appeared with their swords drawn and held them at Harry.

"For a man who has spies that rival the Spider, you still know hardly anything about people." Harry released his hand and shoved his way past the swords pointed at him. Had it not been for Qyburn calling the guards to stand down, Harry might've been killed then and there.

Returning to his commanders waiting for in at one of the city's taverns, Harry sat at their table and downed a large horn or wine reserved for him.

"What word from the Queen, Captain?" One of his men asked.

Harry didn't give a single damn about what the Queen wanted. If he had his way, they would all be sailing back to Essos where they belonged. But his contract was the only thing that kept him in this miserable place. Maybe he should've taken Jon's advice and left with him. But then he would be everything people said about him in Essos. An insecure commander who only got the position by pure accident. And if heleft, then that would be the end of the Golden Company, the only thing he had left. As much as he hated to admit it, Qyburn was right. The only thing that got him out of that throne room was an insult and a lie.

"The Targaryens won their fight against the dead, and it won't long until they get here." He stared deeply at his men, taking in the gravity of their situation. "Send word to our men in Dorne. I want the elephants marching for King's Landing and ready for battle when they get here."


	73. Daenerys XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. This was a difficult chapter to write. Hopefully what it has will make up for that and I am nearly done with another chapter of The Ghost for those of you reading it. Enjoy!

Daenerys

With the death of the Night King and complete annihilation of his army, everyone thought that things would brighten up now. The world was free from the greatest threat in all of history and countless songs would be sung of the greatest armies in the world doing battle for the fate to live. But the one thing no song ever sung of were the tears, blood, and death that came after the fighting. The night was not graced with a calm silence after the battle as thousands upon thousands were being taken to the camps for healing and care. The air echoed with screams of pain that was necessary to sustain the lives of those near death. The hands of every healer would be dyed with the blood of those who risked their lives for the world and would most likely end up giving them. And great was the sorrow to lose a brother, a father, a son, or a friend after the fighting is over and all thought to be saved. The hill that led up to the camps was beginning to form trails of red from all who bled while being taken to the healers.

But the morning that came was unlike any ever seen. The moment the rising sun eclipsed over the horizon the sky became a golden fury of light, as if the gods themselves declared for all the world of the victory achieved. It would be the only time such a sight would be seen, and for far too many it was the last one for them.

The days that followed were those of an awkward kind. How would the world be now that the war for life was won? The great evil that united the countries was defeated and men who would be at the ends of each other's blades were instead sharing mugs with one another. If they could forge the bonds of friendship now, would they last when the War for the Iron Throne would draw to its climax? None could be certain, but they could only hope.

Nearly a month had passed and the death toll was reaching its end. Hundreds of wounded succumbed to their injuries, unable to find the will or strength to last through them. For them and those who were the puppets of the Night King, a great burial was being prepared on the battlefield. Great pyres were being erected and the remains of all were collected, be it nothing but bones or bits of flesh, in the most respectable manner and prepared for their last rights. Many of the Lords and Ladies were demanding that the bones of their subjects be returned to their lands where they belong, but such a thing wouldn't be possible for at least another month and that was time no one had. Even though the Night King was dead and the great storm he bought diminished, winter was still upon the world.

The one thing no one could quite believe yet were the number of those lost on the side of the living. It was until a week after the battle did the maesters have a firm estimate on how many died so far. At the end of the battle, there were sixty thousand accounted dead. In the weeks that followed thirteen thousand succumbed to their wounds and passed away from this life while near twenty thousand remained injured and healing. And that wasn't including the giants or the dragons. Out of the seventy-two giants that fought for the living, only thirty-nine survived thanks to their superior arms and armor. Many tears were shed for Ygris and Viserion, and not just from those that hatched them, but also those that were their kin. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Lyarras were not as lively as they usually were before the battle. Now all of them acted as somber as Ghost always did. Drogon's wound only worsened as the days went on, but the maesters did everything possible to prevent to need to remove his leg. Rhaegal was luckier than his brother. The joint in his wing was merely dislocated and the strength of the giants snapped it back in place.

Daenerys rested calmly in her bed, her one hand gently over her growing belly and feeling the lives inside of her and the other wrapped around the red dragon egg, feeling the warmth that only those with the blood of the dragon could feel. She began to imagine what her two sons would look like. In the dreams she remembered, there was a silver baby dragon and a black dire wolf pup. The dragon had dark eyes like Jon did but the pup had the Targaryen purple. Of mix of both Stark and Targaryen.

While Daenerys laid in bed, Jon sat down at a table. His elbows rested on the wood surface and in his hands he twirled what remained of Longclaw at the tips of his fingers. He hadn't spoken much since he returned from the battle, emerging from the tents with the remnants of his sword in one hand and having a blank look on his face. When Jon saw her and his family he nearly fell into tears, in fact everyone did.

"Jon," Daenerys said, "as much as I know it calms you, but your brooding is making me nervous."

He set the blade down on the table, laying it next to Blackfyre, and got up from the chair. He walked over to Daenerys and lied down the furs of their bed next to her, the dragon egg resting between their bodies. "I'm sorry, it's just… I think this battle took more out of me than any of the others ever have. Ygris, Tormund, my Uncle Benjen, and Bran still hasn't woken up. It's just like when he fell and became a cripple all over again."

"I think this war took much out of everyone. If you keep looking back, then you'll never see forward. The ones we've lost will always have a place in our hearts as long as we keep them there. They died for you, for their home, and the ones they love. Now, we must let them rest and make sure the path they helped us pave for tomorrow will be worth the price they paid for it."

"That's the thing. We still have to defeat Cersei, but after what we've just faced it all seems so…"

"Meaningless?" Daenerys finished.

Jon just silently nodded as he rested his head back on his pillow and stared up at the canopy of the tent.

Daenerys knew that he didn't share her ambition for reclaiming the throne, in fact deep down she knew that he didn't care for it at all. She didn't mind that and still would not stray from reaching the end of the journey set out on, but she did have to agree with her husband. After facing such a colossal threat everything else she ever faced just seemed so minor in comparison. Everything just felt different, neither in a good way nor a bad, but just different.

"Then maybe you should try and find some meaning in it," Daenerys advised, "I know you would rather we stay in Winterfell until our bones fade into dust."

"Dany-"

"Let me finish." Jon closed his mouth and stared directly at her, giving her all his focus. "You want that because Winterfell, the North, it's your home. But it's not mine. Meereen wasn't my home, the Dothraki Khalasar wasn't, and neither was Dragonstone. But it's not in King's Landing either." She took Jon's hand into her own and held it gently. "My home is with you, our sons, and our dragons, but I won't stop fighting for the Iron Throne."

Jon sighed and leaned over to her head and placed a soft kiss above her brow. His lips felt warm against the chill that creeped into their tent.

"Then we'll do it together."

"Your Grace," Missandei's voice came from outside the tent.

"Come in," Daenerys said as Jon sat up.

Missandei came inside, looking as miserable as she did when she first laid eyes on Grey Worm's body, followed by Tyrion. With Grey Worm gone, the Unsullied had to regroup and choose a new commander. Only three and a half thousand Unsullied survived, eight hundred of them too injured to fight, and now they followed the leadership of Ash Pile. "We're almost ready to begin the service for dead." She informed. Though her face did not show, behind Missandei's eyes was misery.

Daenerys got up from the bed and placed the red egg on a small pool of hot coals made at her request. Jon exited their tent with Tyrion to wait for her to be dressed.

All the while Missandei helped her, Daenerys could feel Missandei's sorrow even though she did her best not hide it.

"Missandei," Daenerys poke softly, "I want you to speak to me."

"Of what, your grace?" Missandei's voice was blank and acting oblivious.

"Missandei please. I miss him as much as you do, but it hurts me to see you as you are now. You try to hide your feelings, but it's only making it worse. Please…" Missandei was doing the laces of her dress, but stopped halfway. She could feel Missandei's hands starting to shake and hear sniffling. She turned around and saw tears beginning to stream down her friend's face.

"I miss him," Missandei admitted, keeping her eyes to the ground as if she were ashamed of herself. "I never got to say goodbye or even say I loved him. We didn't have to say to each other to know it, but still… I hate that I never did." Missandei finally looked up at Daenerys. "Why did he have to die like that?"

Daenerys wrapped her arms around Missandei and gave her every warmth of comfort she could as they both sank to their knees. She always made sure to keep herself looking strong in front of her people, not wanting to show a shred of weakness. But in the case for her friend, she joined her to share her tears one evening. She couldn't stand to let her friend bear her pain alone, and not all tears that were shed were a weakness, but a way to empty out our miseries. "I miss him too." Daenerys admitted. She looked at Missandei straight in her eyes. "But you still have a chance to say goodbye, and to tell him that you love him." Missandei closed her eyes and lightly nodded before wiping her tears away.

"I'll finish your dress, your Grace. But after that, may I be excused?"

"Absolutely."

Tyrion and Jon were returned inside as soon as Missandei finished her work and left. With them was Samwell and Lord Commander Eddison Tollett.

"Your grace," Tyrion said, "we still have some time before the services are to happen. I thought we could discuss a few important matters that we've been absent minded about as of late. The fate of the Night's Watch for one. From what Lord Tarly has told me of his studies, the Night's Watch was formed to keep the White Walkers at bay after the first Long Night. They weren't defeated, only driven back. But with our victory, we managed to wipe them out as far as we know." He turned to the Lord Commander who took a seat at the table.

"And now that the dead are defeated," Edd started, "and the Wildlings are granted passage to the south, what point is there to man the Wall any longer? And there's the question of what to do about the lands beyond the Wall. What's the point of ranging out there anymore?"

"One thing at a time, Lord Commander." Daenerys said. She didn't have as much knowledge as Jon did of the Night's Watch or how to handle this, but she would give her input regardless. "How many of your brothers are left?"

"Less than two thousand, most of them are from Essos. They've managed to blend in as best they could, but they still don't 'belong' if you understand what I mean."

"Technically," Sam said, "those who swore to take the black have fulfilled their vows. We pledged to guards the realms of men, and we have. Like Edd said, with the dead defeated and the Wildlings south of the Wall, what more is there to defend from?"

"He has a point," Daenerys said, "we could issue a release for Night's Watch now that there's need for them anymore."

Jon shook his head. "Don't forget that for some, taking a black was a way to escape justice for their crimes. But at the same time, taking the black was meant as a prison for men to freeze and die. You could run south, but as long as the Warden of the North kept watch, you wouldn't get far before losing your head. I can't let dangerous men be set free so easily. But when the war for the throne is over, maybe I can find some way to keep them in service to realm without posing a threat to the people."

"And the men who took the black of their own will?" Edd asked. "What about them? Nearly all the Essosi came because they had nowhere to go."

Jon just shook his head. "I don't know. Everything depends on if we win the throne from Cersei."

"But what about until then?" Edd asked.

"Until then," Tyrion said, "the Night's Watch should remain intact and stay bound to their oaths to keep out of the conflicts of the nine realms."

"Lord Tyrion has a point." Daenerys agreed. "While we still have more battles ahead of us, we can only do so much." In fact, until the Iron Throne was theirs, the was nothing they could do without having to worry about Cersei. Until the war the won, nothing else could be given much attention. "Is it too much to have them remain at the Wall until things settle?"

Edd chuckled silently to himself. "We've garrisoned the Wall for thousands of years and through the harshest of winters, what's one more?" He got up from his seat and straightened his cloak. "When you lot return to Winterfell, we'll go to the Nightfort and wait for word of who wins."

Jon got up to his feet and gave his old friend a warm embrace. "We'll send enough supplies with you until you manage on your own."

As Edd turned to leave the tent, Sam got up to join him, but was stopped. "Not you Sam." Edd told him. "You're needed with the them more than us." He patted Sam on the shoulder and looked at him pleasingly. "Your watch has ended."

Sam just stood in place, wide eyed and speechless as Edd left him with the others. He looked over to Jon as if expecting him to have something to say.

"Don't look at me," Jon told him, "I'm not the lord commander anymore."

Daenerys hid her smile as Sam had an awkward look on his face before nodding and leaving.

"Never thought I would meet someone who reads more than me," Tyrion admitted, "I had an idea for him lingering as of late, but it can wait. We should discuss what to do with the Wildlings that are still with us. Though a great deal of them and the giants are being housed by the Umbers, Forresters, and Manderlys, they'll need to settle on their own soon."

"I've negotiated with them that the lands of the Gift can be given to them." Jon informed.

"If I may," Tyrion said, "since the Dreadfort has been stabilized by the Forrester bastard, what was his name… Josera Snow, and now that you are no longer its lord, but the King of Westeros, I believe the best course of action would to appoint a new one."

"Rodrick's brother has managed to make things calm between the people. He can have the Dreadfort if he wants it."

Tyrion wasn't against it, but he didn't look satisfied.

Daenerys had a thought. "Such good labors to establish good relations shouldn't go unrewarded." Daenerys informed. "If castle is to have a lord, then a he should be given the name of a lord."

"He is a son of House Forrester," Tyrion reminded, "naturalizing him would be the practical approach. But giving him such a powerful seat in the North might upset the other Northern Lords."

"Whatever we choose to do will anger someone." Daenerys reminded. However, She knew Tyrion enough that he wouldn't let things result in that way. "But I feel you have a plan so that doesn't happen."

"The Dreadfort is in need of a new lord, but the seat in the North is major. If Josera Snow even accepts the offer, we make the castle the seat of a lesser House. I would suggest that House Forrester be raised to a major seat sworn directly to House Stark rather than Glover and give them reign over a cadet branch residing in the Dreadfort."

"Lord Glover won't be pleased." Jon said. "He's relatively stubborn about things like this. But… we can make up for his loss by having the Whitehills swear to him. They were relatively equal to the Forresters before their aligned the Boltons."

"That sounds fair," Tyrion said, "I'll go make the arrangements and meet with the Lords after the services. Now what about the Wildling Clan leaders? Tormund Giantsbane is gone, and he was the one the turned to for leadership. In the time I spent with him, I was always surprised at how well he could keep his people under control unlike any other Wildling I've met."

"I don't want to assume anything," Daenerys said to Jon, "but don't they follow you?"

Jon shrugged his shoulders. "They know I want peace with them, and they are faithful to their words. The Free Folk pledged to fight with me against the dead, and they did, and now they'll return to the lands of the Gift and settle in as promised."

Daenerys knew that was the original agreement for the Wildlings when they were let through the Wall. However, that was when the Night's Watch governed those lands. With the meeting they had with the Lord Commander, there would soon be a problem. "But if the Night Watch is abolished, then won't the lands of the Gift return to the North?"

Jon had a look on his face as if he just realized that, or rather forgot about it.

Tyrion had the same look on his face. "I don't need to know them well enough to think that they don't want to return to lands beyond the Wall, despite the threat of the White Walkers being gone."

"And it raises a big problem." Jon said. "They were going to be under the care and responsibility of the Night's Watch, free from any rulers. They won't let themselves be governed by anyone south of their country."

"But they're in their country anymore. You mean to say that they won't swear allegiance to us?" Daenerys asked.

"They only Kings they've ever followed are the ones they chose."

"They followed you south of the Wall and to battle. If they're going to live in our lands, then they must do as everyone does and bend the knee to their rightful rulers."

Jon laughed a little as if she said something funny she wasn't aware of. "The one thing the Free Folk do is kneel to anyone. But… there could be a way to create alliances with them."

"You have an idea?" Daenerys inquired.

"There are a few places in the North that are cold and abandoned. Queencrown, Ramsgate, even an old fortress near Sea Dragon Point. if they declare me their King and you their Queen, then they can have better places to live and better lands."

"Are you sure about that?" Tyrion inquired. "That might anger the Northern lords more than the Dreadfort plan. Some of them do still have grudges against the Wildlings."

"I'll talk it over with Sansa and Rickon and try to convince them. Hopefully they'll see the reason in this."

"But we would need some form of guarantee of the Wildlings' loyalty," Daenerys said, "in a way that unites them to the North. And the best alliances are made with marriage."

Neither Tyrion nor Jon said anything, but that just meant that they had no objections.

"I think such negotiations would better be suited by a Northman favored by the lords." Tyrion suggested.

Jon rolled is eyes as the answer to who was obvious. "I'll talk it over with a few of them."

"Oh, I nearly forgot," Tyrion said, "there's one more thing. Someone from yesterday's supply caravan from Winterfell is here to see the two of you. He said it is urgent that he does."

'It could be a report on the south.' Daenerys thought. "Of course, Tyrion."

After putting on his own cloak, Jon assisted Daenerys with hers and they both followed Tyrion outside.

Entering Tyrion's tent, Daenerys saw Ser Davos and Ser Jorah gathered together. In front of them all was an elderly man well over sixty, the only hair on his head was a great white beard that stretched from his chin to his chest. Standing next to him was a younger man about half his age, with more hair but less of a beard, and only one arm. The younger man was most likely s soldier who fought in the battle. Over the older man's shoulder was a large rucksack, barely holding its contents.

"My Queen," the old man's voice was coarse and calmly, like many Northerners. He struggled to bend to his knee to Daenerys, his age putting strain on his joints. The young man helped as much as he could with his only arm, but it was more than enough to ease the weakening body of the older man.

"What are your names?" Daenerys asked.

The younger man introduced himself first. "My name is Tomas, your grace. This is my father, Rorus."

"You may rise." Daenerys offered and the two of them did so gladly, Rorus nearly toppling over had Tomas not given him his arm to hold onto to.

Rorus turned to look at Jon. "Your Grace, you may not remember me-"

"I do," Jon told him, "You're the kennelmaster of Winterfell."

"Aye, I took back the position after my son Farlen was killed by the Boltons, your grace." Rorus grabbed hold of the rucksack and positioned it over his large stomach. "About a week after you left, some of the new dogs we had brought in were howling outside the walls of the castle." He opened the flap and pulled out a large wooden box with a lock sealing the lid. "I went to see what was making them cause such a ruckus and that's when I found this, just lying in the snow where the dragons would nest." He reached into his shirt and revealed a key tied to a thin line of string around his neck before breaking it off and unlocking the box. When he opened the lid, everyone became wide eyed when they saw what was inside. "I made sure to handle it with as much care as I could."

Inside the box, resting on a small thick blanket as a cushion, was a dragon egg, grey as ash with specks of black riddling the surface.

Rorus held the box out to Jon, his arms on the verge of shaking from the weight. As Jon gently removed the egg from the box, Daenerys started to feel something within her desire the egg, something reminiscent to when she had her first dragon eggs.

"Ygris," Jon whispered, "this is hers." It seemed improbable that the egg would be Ygris', considering that this is the first laid egg in hundreds of years and how much younger she was compared to Rhaegal and Drogon. But Daenerys could see the certainty in Jon's eyes and not a shred of doubt of where the egg came from.

"Khaleesi," Ser Jorah said, "given the circumstances, I think it's possible to hatch them before the day is over. The death that has happened is more than enough of a payment and all of the dragons that live were hatched on funeral pyres."

Before Daenerys could respond to such a proposal, Jon interjected. "No, not this time." He offered the egg to Daenerys and she carefully took it into her hands. The feeling of this egg felt far different that the red one. Instead of a warm stone like touch the surface of eggs usually had, this one felt delicate and weak. "There are two eggs for two children. If our sons are going to have dragons, they have to be the ones to hatch them, to earn them."

Daenerys thought over his words but couldn't take her mind off the egg in her hands. Aside from what Jon said, the egg didn't feel ready. Moreover, the egg didn't feel like it belonged in her hands. She would sometimes feel the same thing from the red one.

"Then so it shall be." Daenerys said. She turned to Rorus and Tomas. "I deeply thank you for bringing this to us. If there is anything you wish for within our power to give, name it and it shall be yours."

"You honor me, your grace," Rorus said with a bow of his head, "but I have all could ever want that I can. The only thing I can ask for is that you live better days than I have." Rorus was a humble man, but well into his years that he had no desire for worldly things. Just to continue on as he is until he longer draws breath.

Rorus and Tomas were excused from the tent. Despite what Rorus said, Daenerys wouldn't forget what he did for not only her and Jon, but the dragons as well. Who knows what would have happened if the egg remained in the snow.

Now that the matter was settled, Daenerys gave the egg to Missandei to be taken to her tent. Everyone else joined the mass of lords and ladies to give the dead their respects and send them to their gods.

Standing on the peak of a hill, Daenerys and Jon faced all the Lords, Ladies, and commanders that represented the soldiers that fell. Not all who were present at the war council were present here since many fell in battle. Their heirs were now given what their parent left them while some would never see their children take their place when they left this world. Jon held a bow and arrow in one hand. The sun had just set and the light of the twilight hour remained in the clear, cold sky as Jon began the eulogy.

"Throughout history, many us fought against one another, be it for power, revenge, or justice. But tonight, we lay to rest those that fought together and won, despite their differences, despite their hatred for each other. Sons will return home without their fathers, and fathers will return home without their sons. They came from every part of this world, and because of them, we can all live to see more days ahead of us. And now, we say goodbye, but always remember their sacrifice and honor their memory."

Jon knocked the arrow on the bow string and dipped the head into the fire pit then faced the field of pyres. What was once the battlefield for the largest battle in history was now about to become the largest burial ground. Great pyres that had near one hundred men a piece created a field of graves that were about to lit into the biggest fire the North has ever seen.

Jon drew the arrow and released it high into the sky. It sailed true and landed on the largest one where Viserion and Ygris were put to rest. The pyre ignited beautifully and the flames spread very quickly. Once the first pyre was consumed, every man available to wield a bow and shot was little arrows they had left. Thousands of arrows soared and fell to their marks, enlarging the amount of fire that was already there. Despite this, it wasn't enough to light every pyre, but that issue was already taken care of.

Jon gave the bow to a Northern guard standing by and warged into Rhaegal and Lyarras. They both took to the skies from where they nested with Drogon and flew over the funeral pyres. Streaking down close enough, both of the dragons let out their flames and ignited the last of the pyres in dragon fire.

Watching the flames, Daenerys imagined those who followed her from Essos leaving this world as free people and not the slaves they were born as. "Goodbye." She whispered under her breath.


	74. Arya VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're Welcome

Arya

"Nymeria, gloves." Arya couldn't help but try and see if Nymeria remembered any of the commands she taught her long ago. As far as she had seen, the only things she responded to were commands of movement such halting, following, and so on. The great direwolf just continued to lay and Arya's bed and stare at her. "Glove Nymeria, don't you remember?" Nymeria just groaned lazily and shifted her position on the bed. "It was worth a try." Arya was grateful enough that Nymeria kept close to her rather than her pack ever since the end of the battle. There were so few of the wolves left that it was no bigger than any regular wolf pack now.

Arya had few things to pack anyways, no more than two bags. All that was left for her was to leave out a fresh change of clothes for the beginning of the march back to Winterfell. She set her bags at the foot of her bed and sat down on the fur blankets.

She was ready to go home, back to Winterfell where the Starks belonged. Despite every that she had been through, her training, traveling, and the fighting, she wanted to have a break from all of it. But as long as her list had names, her battles wouldn't be over.

She rested her head on Nymeria and whispered the names remaining on her list. "Cersei, the Mountain. Cersei, the Mountain. Cersei-"

"Arya," Jon's voice called from outside her tent, "are you in there?"

Both she and Nymeria perked their heads up when they heard Jon's voice. "You can come in."

He stepped inside, looking rugged for a King. He wore his hair loose and let it flow on the pelt of his cloak. He hadn't worn his black boiled leather armor since the battle and kept to wearing thick doublets.

"Well well," she keenly said, "look who decided to spend time with his sister."

"Actually," Jon said, "I was wondering if you knew where Gendry was."

She scoffed at him and fell back onto Nymeria. Ever since he returned from the Iron Islands with Daenerys, she was the only one who got to have the most of his time. "I may know where he is. But what's in it for me if I tell you?"

"Uh… the gratitude of the King?" Jon jested.

Arya swung herself up to her feet and looked Jon straight in the eyes. "I'll tell you where he is if you give me a rematch."

"Rematch? What do you mean?"

"I mean another duel. But this time, you take it seriously and not like you did at the Dragonpit." Jon wanted to protest, but Arya wouldn't allow it. "I may not have noticed it, but someone did. And I want a real fight from you." Sandor said that what Jon gave her was nothing but pity. She wanted to know what a real fight from him was like.

Jon didn't hesitate to answer. "Alright, deal. Where's Gendry?"

The lack of enthusiasm from Jon was unsatisfying to Arya. So she wouldn't give what he wanted yet. "Why are you looking for him?"

"To ask him to forge me a new sword for one thing, but the other… I'd rather not say." He got all serious after the second thing. Sensing a bit of urgency in his voice, Arya divulged what she knew.

"He went north of the Wall with some of his men about an hour ago. Said there was something he wanted to get and he'd be back by nightfall." He looked just as confused as she was as to why he went there. "I don't know what it was, but he seemed excited when he left."

"But there's nothing there besides a wreckage ice and burnt forest." He sighed out, obviously disappointed. He motioned to leave but stopped and looked back at Arya. "It's better you learn now than later. Will you walk with me?"

He didn't look happy about what he had to say, in fact he had the face he makes when he would go somewhere to brood. Arya got up from the bed and joined his side. Before she could give the command, Nymeria was already off the bed and following behind her.

Jon held the flap of the entrance open for them and smiled gently as Nymeria passed him. "It's nice to see her be in your company more often."

"I'm surprised Ghost isn't in yours."

"He's still healing from his wounds. Nearly gutted open. He'll need a few more weeks to heal." Though the camp was bustling with men working, they path of direction was relatively private for the most part.

Being with Jon always made Arya feel calm, but the way he was acting gave her a troubling feeling she couldn't shake away. He was almost afraid to speak to her. "Tell me, what was the other reason you were looking for Gendry?"

Jon looked at her concerned and upset, but it was towards himself rather than her. "I've noticed you've grown closer to him."

"Friends tend to be close."

"Arya, please."

She obviously had no chance to hide what she felt for him from Jon. "We haven't done anything… sinful as mother would say."

"That wasn't what I asking for, but thankyou for your honesty. Listen, as you already know, we'll be losing a great number of soldiers after the truce. The Fiery Hand has no purpose here anymore, and the Night's Watch is remaining at the Wall. But a great number of houses will be stepping out of the war for the throne."

"Is Edric still firm on returning to Dorne?"

"Aye, he is. And so are all of his men. I've spoken with dozens of lords already and very few of them will be supporting us against Cersei. But the ones we need, the Hightowers, Brackens, many of the major Houses are keeping out of it. They have no reasons or ties to fight for us."

"No reasons? What about the battle we just fought? The one that you won for all of them?"

"It's because of that, most of the Houses are staying out of the war instead of allying with Cersei. But even then, there are some who are will be fighting for her. I think only one house from the Westerlands is pledging fealty to us, and it's not the Lannisters unfortunately."

"What?" If Jaime was going back on word, it would be no surprise at all from the Oathbreaker himself. It would just give Arya all the reason she needed to add him to her lists of names. "So does that mean Jaime is going back to Casterly Rock with his soldiers?"

"His men are, but he isn't. Varys has heard some whispers that a great many of the commanders in the Lannister forces aren't accepting Jaime as their lord. Only about a thousand men of his seventeen are staying to fight with him and us."

The Kingslayer is keeping his word it seems. But Arya wouldn't believe it until Cersei was dead.

"The point is, our numbers we have now will drop nearly forty thousand. We still outnumber Cersei, but numbers have never been what determine a victory, however they do help and we need all the help we can get and if have the entirety of the nine Kingdoms supporting us, Cersei will have lost in everything except the fight."

"And what Gendry have to do with all of this?"

Jon stopped his pace and looked out to the distance ahead. "He's Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, one of the most powerful men in Westeros. And he's unwed."

That last word sent a shiver down Arya's spine and her like rippling water. She shot her head to Jon and saw he was just as uneased as she was. "What are you planning?"

"Me? Nothing. Tyrion and Davos, finding him a bride that will create a strong alliance, and they aren't the only ones. Many of the lords I've spoken to have offered allegiance for a price. I haven't agreed to anything because it's not my choice to, but many have offered themselves or their sons for Sansa's hand, and I suspect many with offer their daughters to Gendry."

Arya's heart began to feel heavy. Nothing was set in stone, but it was turning that way. She wanted to say that he couldn't let this happen to Sansa and Gendry, that it was a stupid idea and that he should threaten the lords with the dragons for their fealty. But she couldn't. Her words had no worth in matter like this. She refused to be a lady of the court, and what place did a fighter have in politics?

"So you plan to sell both of them off like broad mares?"

"Arya, they aren't they only ones on the table, so to speak. Lord Manderly has his two granddaughters, Ned Umber was brought up, almost everyone with a name and unmarried in the North and the Vale was considered. I was looking for Gendry to warn him about this before it got larger than it is since others have more to gain by marrying into the Baratheon bloodline. And I'm not forcing Sansa to do anything after all she's been through. Her choice is hers."

"But Gendry's isn't?"

Jon didn't answer her, he just grew frustrated with himself. "We all have a duty, Arya. Gendry's is to take a wife and make her the lady of the Stormlands. I know you love him, don't deny it, and he loves you. But what you have can't continue if you remain as you are. Things like these will bring consequences. Robb ignored them and that's what got him killed. He chose love over duty."

Arya felt herself growing angry. She didn't want to him speak anymore because everything he was saying a was cold truth. "So did you." She spat at him. "You chose to love a Wildling rather than be loyal to the Night's Watch, and it all worked out for you. Everything always works out for Jon Snow."

"Arya, I have died twice. Once is enough to prove that everything does not work out for me."

"Yet here you stand, alive, a king, a husband, and soon a father."

Jon looked on the verge of shouting. "What is it you want from me? You don't want to be lady but Gendry has to have one."

"He never wanted to even be a lord in the first place until you and the others pressured him into doing it! He never wanted any of it to begin with."

"So what then? Should I strip him of everything he has just so you can have him? Is that what you want? We don't need his armies anymore so what use is he? That was the only reason we made him a lord after all." Jon obviously didn't mean any of what he said, but it sure felt that he did. And what he said wasn't fair to say. He made it sound like she had some sort of claim over Gendry.

Nymeria began to growl at Jon and bore her teeth at him. "Nymeria, no!" Arya turned to face her direwolf and did her best to calm her down. Arya realized that she needed to as well. Everything was just so chaotic to her right now.

Jon took a deep breath and left Arya without saying a word to her.

"Where are you going?" Arya asked him. He didn't reply or even look back at her. He just ignored her and walked out of sight.

Arya felt like an arse for leaving things off like that. He clearly didn't want to speak with her anymore, and maybe it was best that she didn't him. But not talking was killing her inside. She couldn't have one thing without giving up the other. But then she remembered the words of sentiment that Sandor gave to her before the battle. maybe things were only horse shit because she was making them be.

Jon was wrong to talk to her about this. He spoke more like a lord than her brother, and the latter is who she needed. She could talk to Sansa, but she was the ideal Lady of the court and wouldn't have much of an idea of how Arya felt. Maybe Brienne, but she had no idea where to find her and she was still green as grass being the Lady of Tarth.

The sky was turning into the hour of twilight as the sunset grew fiery orange and small glitters of stars began to appear in the evening blue.

"What should I do girl?" Arya asked to Nymeria, half expecting her to reply. But if anything, she did need someone to speak to, but she didn't know who. She had to speak with someone who had experience and was well respected as enough as a Lady that no one would think twice about obeying.

Arya almost laughed at herself for not realizing the obvious choice sooner. "Come on girl." Nymeria followed Arya into the camps to where the Northern Houses were gathered.

Together the two of them passed tents with banners of Houses Manderly, Umbers, Reed, and Tallhart until they finally arrived at the tent Arya was looking for with a Mormont banner.

There were two Northerners standing guard at the entrance to Lady Lyanna's tent and stood at attention when Arya approached them.

"Lady Stark," one of them spoke, "is there something we can do for you?"

She didn't like to be called Lady Stark or Lady Arya, but given that she wasn't a knight or had any official occupation, she bore with it. "I was hoping for an audience with Lady Mormont."

"Of course, one moment." One of the guards entered the tent and a muffled conversation could be heard. The guard came back out and was followed by the maester of Bear Island. "Lady Mormont will see you now."

Arya bowed her head in gratitude to the man and nearly forgot one thing before she entered. "Nymeria, stay." The direwolf walked right next to the other guard and laid down in the snow. The men looked absolutely terrified being so close to her, yet she paid him no heed or any kind of attention.

Entering Lyanna's tent, Arya saw her sitting at her table looking over a piece of parchment. She looked up when she realized Arya's presence. "Arya Stark," she said freely yet respectively, "I must admit that I didn't expect such an audience with you of all people."

"I was hoping for a moment of your time if it wouldn't be too much to ask right now."

"House Mormont is sworn to obey House Stark when called upon. If you require something of me, you need only ask. Would you like to sit down?" She gestured her hand to the free seat next to her. Arya never spoke to her directly until now, but she was very impressed that Lyanna could be so regal at such a young age. She was only eleven years old, and yet she gave off the maturity of an adult.

"No but thank you very much for the offer." Arya declined.

"Then what is it I can do for you?" Lyanna asked.

"I have a rather personal question to ask, but you do not have to answer if you do not wish to."

"The question you ask will determine the answer I give, but don't let that stop you from asking."

"If you were asked by the King to accept a marriage proposal to someone you didn't know only for the sake of an alliance and to build strength, would you say yes?"

Lyanna's brow arched as she did not expect this kind of a question. "If it was a command, honor would bind me to say yes. But if the King only asked it of me in the same set of circumstances as you said, then I would still say yes."

"You would?"

Lyanna nodded her head. "I may not be pleased about such a thing, but I know that his grace wouldn't ask something of me he that didn't have a reasonable cause behind it. He always puts the best interests of others first as much as he can, and I know he wouldn't demand it of me either. He knows he could, but he never does. He gives us our own choice, and it's because of that I still called him King in the North even after learning who he really was."

Hearing this eased Arya enough that she saw the whole ordeal she had with Jon differently. He never once said that the marriages were going to happen, only that it was a possibility. She felt calmer about things, but the fact that they remain as ideas for now still made her unsure. How long would it take for ideas to turn into action? Gendry was one of the few people in the world she had love for, and she didn't want to see him sold off to another witch and never see him again.

"I have something else I would ask. How do you act so… hardened and experienced at such a young age? You're fiercer than most of the lords of the North and I've never seen anyone but you shut Lord Glover up."

Lyanna held back a smile at the compliment as she got up from her seat. "I became Lady of Bear island when I was eight years old. I heard that my mother was killed at the Twins, and all I did was cry for days. She didn't leave a castellan for the castle or someone to handle the dealings of the other lords. Everyone was scared and confused. But then I decided that I didn't want to be anymore. I wanted to be strong like my mother and my uncle, I had to be for my people. It took months of work and training that was unbearable to do, but it was worth it in the end. I handle things with caution and reason, but I never doubt myself. If I do, then the people will begin to doubt me as well. No one has ever questioned my command because I earned my people's trust and my own. It's not so much something to teach how to do, but just the simple matter of having faith in yourself and what you do. And here I stand because of it."

"But surely there was something you wanted before that you had to sacrifice when you took the position, wasn't there?"

"I won't lie, I wanted to be a princess, but that was never going to happen." There was almost a hint of honesty in that statement. "If someone ever told me I couldn't be something other than what I am, I would remind them that I am the Lady Bear Island and the Head of my House, I decide my destiny and will become whatever I choose to be."

When the last of Lyanna's words left her, all the fear and doubt in Arya's heart melted away. Everything was clearer now, and it didn't bother her as much anymore.

"Thank you, Lyanna."

"If you ever need guidance in the future, my ears will always be listening for you."

Arya left Lyanna's tent and began to walk through camps once again. Nymeria quickly got to her feet and followed Arya closely. It was nearly Nightfall and there was one last person she had to see before the day was truly over.

Arriving at the tent, Arya peeked inside to see if Gendry had returned from beyond the Wall. Sure enough he was inside, sitting at his table and eyeing a small object in his hand. She began to feel nervous, but confident enough that she wouldn't turn away.

"Gendry?" He turned his head and saw her peek her head inside. "Can I talk you?"

"Arya," he said with a grin on his face, "come here, I want show you something."

She entered the tent but felt unsure about things. "Gendry, I need to tell you something."

Her words went right over his head as he got up from the chair and held out his hand to her. He was very excited about something as he revealed a small chunk of metal resting on his palm. "Do you see this? I dug it out of ice from the northern battlements. It's from the scythe of Castle Black when the White Walkers used their magic to shatter it. I think this is-"

"Gendry!" Arya raised her voice and grabbed hold of his arms, finally gaining his attention. "Please."

"Sorry, I just… what's wrong?" His excitement died and he looked concerned.

Arya didn't know where to begin or how. She let go of him and took a few steps away from him. "I just… has anyone talked to lately about certain things?"

"Nothing worth of mentioning. I was invited for drinks yesterday by some lord. Seemed real friendly to me. Can't remember his name though."

"What did the two of you talk about?"

"Bit of everything. He said he heard I fought bravely and asked a bit about myself. Then he went on to tell me about himself, his family. Though he talked about his daughter more than anything it felt like."

Things were already preparing to be set in motion. "Gendry, Jon and I had an… we had heated conversation about you this evening."

"About me?"

"It was…" She was at a loss for words. She was afraid the words she said to him would bring the ones she didn't want to hear. But first, she had to know something first. "Why did you become a lord?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Please just tell me."

He didn't understand where this was coming from, but he gave her his answer regardless. "At first it was because I wanted to be something more than I was. I had the chance given to me so I took it. But then it turned into something else. Despite having my father's name, I'm still a bastard and everyone sees me that way. So I'm going to show them that I can be greater than they think of me. Now why are you asking me this?"

She couldn't tell him yet, there was something else she had to know first. "So you wouldn't take it back then? Even if you learned you gave up something important to you?"

"I already did. I gave up the chance to be out of the shit the world keeps giving. But I get to become who I want to be because I did. Now tell me what this is all about?"

"When I spoke to Jon, he told me that you need to take a wife now that you're a lord. And with the list of allies we have growing shorter, marriage will bring some back."

Arya was surprised when Gendry started chuckled heartedly at her. "That's what this is about? Who will by my side in Storm's End?" Of all times, he looked amused with Arya. "And I suppose you're against it all now that we finally have something for each other?"

"Gendry…" She knew exactly what she wanted to say, had to say, but she couldn't form the words.

Gendry approached her and wrapped his arms around her before kissing her. Arya's eyes fell closed as everything she felt began to melt away.

"I love you Arya," he spoke softly, and he parted his lips from hers. "to the ends of the world and back."

"Gendry, I can't… I," her voice was trembling, "I want you to be happy, but I don't want to see you leave me again."

"You won't have to, I promise."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I'm going to make you mine."

She felt she wanted to reject him. But at the same time, she didn't want to and wouldn't let herself.

"Arya, there is no one who can fill the place in my heart that is meant for you, no one. You're the family I never had, and you're the lady I need."

She looked at him sternly. She kissed him back and they viciously went at it like two animals. She parted lips so she could speak. "Do you remember that promise you said before the battle?"

"About Hotpie and you?"

"I've decided I won't be your lady or your family, I want to be both."

He smiled at her as her father used to. "As my Lady desires." Without thinking, only feeling the emotion of the moment, Arya grabbed hold of Gendry's shirt and began to pull it off of his chest. He worked at her cloak and let it fall to ground. They resumed kissing each other as they made their way to his bed and both collapsed onto it.

It didn't take long for either of them to get the other as naked as their namedays. For these moments, she was his and he was hers.

But while they gave themselves to another, they were interrupted.

"Gendry?" Jon's voice called out, "are you in there?"

Gendry and Arya ceased just as things were about to get good for the two of them. He had utter shock on his face while Arya didn't care anymore.

"Yes, but don't come in!"

"uh, do you have a moment?"

"I'm a little busy right now!"

"With what?"

Before Gendry could think of something to say, Arya gave an answer for him. "He's making an alliance with the North!"

Gendry lost all air in his lungs and tensed up. Arya, however, didn't give two shits about Jon's reaction to this. There was a pregnant silence between all of them lasting longer than it should have. The only noise that was made was the sound of Jon's footsteps of him leaving.

"I can't believe you just did that." Gendry said.

"Shut up already." Arya pressed her lips back on Gendry and was determined to finish what they started.


	75. Rickon VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. No excuses. I will release one more chapter of my next fic "The Ghost" and then power through this until the end.

Rickon

"Are you sure about this?" Ralf asked.

"Of course," Rickon assured him, "no one will notice if one tiny keg goes missing." The two of them along with three other boys carefully snuck past the patrolling Unsullied and made their way to the caravan train. Hundreds of carts were lined up, packed and ready to begin the return journey to Winterfell, and all of them abandoned with hardly anyone watching over them. One section of carts in particular had nothing but barrels of wine and ale. "Ollan, Ballor, you two come with me." Rickon ordered to two the twins from White Harbor. Both of them were three years older than him, yet they followed orders loyally. "Rugory, you warg into your owl and keep watch with Ralf." Rugory was a Wildling and a war like Rickon but his skill was far greater.

"Whatever you say, Stark." Rugory replied as he sat down and got comfortable before his eyes flashed white as snow.

"Alright boys, let's go." Shrouded in the shadow of a moonless night, Rickon led the twins through the labyrinth of carts and wagons. He knew which one they had to look for, but they were the ones with the muscle to carry the goods. They kept low as they shifted silently through the snow until they found the carts with the wine and ale barrels.

"Which one has the Arbor Gold?" Ollan asked.

Rickon scanned the carts that had the Tarly Banners swinging high above them. "Look for a red archer on a field of… brownish green?"

"Brownish green?" Ballor asked. "What kind of color is that?"

"The color of horse shit." Rickon informed them.

"Like that?" Ollan pointed to a banner waving in the cold breeze. It bore the red hunter of House Tarly on field of horse shit green. "That's more bronze green, wouldn't you think?"

"Dammit, shut up about the green!" Rickon exclaimed while keeping his voice a whisper. "Now come on. We only have a little time to get the wine." The three of them snuck past the carts to the ones containing nothing but barrels of delicious wine.

Ollan climbed into the wine cart and looked at the treasure it held. "This one looks small enough. He gripped the sides of a well sized barrel and lifted with all his strength. He grunted and heavily as he carefully gave it to his brother. Ballor was slightly stronger and was able to take the barrel into his arms without breaking a sweat.

"Got it," Ballor said, "let's get out of hear."

Ollan jumped out of the cart and followed Rickon and Ballor back to where they came. As they kept their steps as quite as they could, an owl began hooting in the air not far from them.

"Hide!" Rickon whispered. The three boys ducked behind on of the larger carts and held as still as rocks. A few moments passed before a pair of patrolling guards walked by.

They all let out a sigh of relief as they were unnoticed. "come on," Rickon told them, "we're nearly in the clear."

It didn't take long for them to return to Ralf and Rugory. Rugory's eyes return to their normal golden brown and began gasping for air. Rickon still couldn't warg yet, but he knew that it did weaken the bodies of who are less experienced.

"Well done Rugory," Rickon complimented as offered his hand out, "couldn't have done this without you."

"Of course not. All the other skinchangers of the Free Folk my age are dead." He blatantly said. He was pulled from the ground and brushed the snow off his thick fur pants.

They troupe of wine thieves hurried back to Rickon's private tent and we greeted by four girls.

"Did you get the wine, Lord Stark?" An older girl from the Vale asked.

"We all got it," Rickon corrected. "Now we just wait for the goblets."

While Ballor and Ollan set the barrel up, Rickon looked around and noticed someone was missing. He approached one of the girls who was the only other Wildling with all them besides Rugory.

"Was Joanna told about tonight?"

"I told her, but she didn't want to come. She'd rather sulk in her tent."

That was upsetting to hear. Rickon hadn't seen her since a week after the battle. After that she didn't want to talk or see him. She was sad about something, but he didn't know what of. He was hoping she would want to join them for a private party of sorts to help bring her mood up. He didn't want her to miss out on the fun. He turned to Ralf seeing as he was the oldest of them all. "Go ahead and get started when the others get here. I'll be right back."

He left everyone to the warmth of his tent and exited back into the cold. He wanted all the friends he made to have a night of fun before they left to raise the mood, and he wanted everyone to be there. He knew where to find Joanna's tent. It was with the remaining Wildlings of the Frozen Shore Men.

As Rickon was nearly there, a Wildling man came out of nowhere and ran right into him. The man of was so much bigger than him that Rickon was knocked into the snow. He rolled over uncontrollably and planted his face into the snow. Before he could get up, a large hand grabbed ahold of the clothes on his back and lifted him out of the snow and a few inches of the ground.

"What are you doing here lad?" The man asked. He continued to hold Rickon as he was effortlessly while something big was slunk over his opposite shoulder. There was so much fur that it had to be an animal of a kind.

Rickon wiped snow from his eyes and said, "I came to see a friend."

"A southerner friends with the Free Folk? Pfft, probably just some fool trying to cause trouble."

"I'm not a southerner, I'm from the North. My name is Rickon Stark."

"Stark?" The animal over the man's shoulder spoke. Its body shifted and woman's head appeared. Seeing that made Rickon realize that it was no animal, just a Wildling woman. "You're the Lord of Winterfell?"

"Not Yet. Sansa's in charge until I'm ready."

The large man set Rickon down without an apology. "What are doing here?" he asked.

"I told you, I'm here for a friend. Joanna."

"Karsi's daughter?" The woman asked. "She's hasn't been feeling good lately."

"I heard, but I don't know why." Rickon told them. "but I was hoping to help make her feel better."

"Or," the man objected, "You came to steal her away in the night."

"Steal her?"

"Oh come on now, Honsar." The woman said. "He's just a boy and doesn't know our ways." She pushed herself off of the wildling's shoulder and stood just as tall as him. She reminded him of Osha, but her head was brighter in color and face longer. "You're her friend?"

"She's one of my best." Rickon stated. "But she's been avoiding for weeks now and won't tell me why, won't tell anyone."

"It's nothing you've done. She's in mourning for Tormund. He was like a father to her and Willa. But with gone, they have no one else to look after them."

"But her mother was the chief of the Frozen Shore men. Wouldn't her people care for her?"

The Wildling man, Honsar, shook his head. "The Free Folk aren't like you southern lords. She could've been the daughter of the King beyond the Wall and it wouldn't mean anything. The only leaders we follow are strong ones. Doesn't matter who came before you, unless you're a Thenn. They're the last of the clans that keep to the right of blood."

"But surely someone can care for her and her sister?"

The woman looked displeased with what she had to say. "Maybe, but it will be a long time before that happens. We won't be able to settle properly until the winter ends and we've recovered. We're too… what's the word… there's too much we have to do. They're welcome to stay with their tribe, but they will have to fend for themselves. That's just how we are."

Rickon felt saddened knowing that, and the woman took notice to it.

"Do not fret, little Lord. Karsi grew up sharing the same fate and she became one of the strongest warriors ever known."

"But still, they shouldn't have to share such a fate like that. I lost my parents, but I have someplace to call home."

"Enough," Honsar said, turning to the woman, "we've wasted too much time." He pinched the women on her bottom and she yelped out playfully. He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder again left Rickon to himself, but Rickon wanted to know something first.

"Wait! What did you mean  _steal her_?" Rickon called out.

The woman looked at Rickon while the man just kept running. "This is stealing a woman, little lord!" she laughed a little before they vanished from sight into the cover of the Wildling tents.

Rickon still didn't understand it, but from the looks of it and what she said, it must've meant that he was taking her somewhere in a fun way. Maybe they were having a party tonight as well. He didn't know much about the Wildlings to begin with, only that they told him and a few other things. They shared the blood of the First Men and worshipped the old gods, and their version of ale tastes horrible.

At the entrance of Joanna's tent, Rickon peeked inside and saw only her. She was lying down on her furs. She was dressed out of her thick fur clothes and her boats were scatter on the ground. She rested her head on her hands on didn't make a sound. She faced away from him and her honey brown hair scattered behind her back.

Rickon whispered calmly to her. "Joanna."

She turned her head and revealed that she was wide awake. "Go away. I'm not coming to your stupid thing."

"I'm not here to talk about that. Well… not anymore." Joanna sat up as Rickon entered inside her tent. "Shutting yourself away isn't going to help, it will only make it worse." Rickon sat down next to her, a little closer than he normally would.

"I don't want to talk about it with you."

"But I can't just let you stay this way. It's making me sad to see you be like this."

"I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity, it's concern. I don't want someone I care about to be sad. I want you to feel better. Please just talk to me."

Joanna sighed and fell to Rickon's persistence. "Every day of my life has been nothing but striving for survival. When I came through the Wall I thought the running, the fighting, the death, all of it would end, but it only got worse. Tormund told me that once the White Walkers were killed we could rest. But he's gone and now things are only going to get harder for me and my sister."

Rickon said he would just listen, but he couldn't help himself. "If you need help you, only have to ask."

Joanna scoffed at him. "Help? What kind of help could you possibly give? The war is over and my clan will be settling in land soon and you'll be off in your castle."

It felt unfair. She had to go back to living in the cold while he had an entire castle for himself and soon he would rule over it. That meant his word would be law, and no one could tell him otherwise in his decisions. "So come with me."

Joanna's eyes widened. "What?"

"You, your sister, come live with me in Winterfell. I am the lord by right and no one can tell you to leave if I say so."

"But… you…" She was at a loss for words. "What do you want in return?"

"Nothing. We're friends, aren't we? And friends have to look out for each other. I mean it." Rickon wasn't going to lose another person he cared for again, and he would do whatever he could to make sure that it didn't happen. Joanna surprised him by jumping onto him and hugging him tightly. Rickon grunted as he fell to the floor. The side of her face was pressed up against his. She was warm, very warm. "Joanna… can't breathe."

Joanna laughed at him and let him go. "Let me get my clothes on." She tossed her fur blankets aside and revealed that she had nothing covering her legs, only her deer hide shirt that reached just below her waist.

Rickon quickly turned around and waited for Joanna to change. His face started to warm up and he began to feel nervous for reasons he couldn't explain.

"What's the matter? Never seen a girl naked before?" Her voice was taunting to him.

"No, I haven't." Osha used to bathe him in a river before she would during their travels and she warned him that if he dared to spy on her then she would cut off his balls and feed them to Shaggydog.

"Missed your chance."

Rickon clenched his fists and started to fidget in place. He tried to take his mind off of the girl who was dressing right next to him.  _'Just keep looking away, just keep looking away, do not dishonor yourself, do not dishonor yourself.'_

"Alright, I'm ready." Rickon stood up and then decided to do something rather silly to get back at Joanna for teasing him so. He ducked down to Joanna and picked her up by the waist and hefted her over his shoulder. "Rickon! What're doing!?"

"I'm stealing you to the party." He told her as he exited the tent and started to run as best he could. Though wearing such heavy winter clothes made it difficult but he would not give up.

"What? Rickon no! Do you even know what you're doing!?" Joanna began to struggle and tried to free herself from his arm. She began slamming her fists on his back.

"Some of the Free Folk told me what is was and I thought it would be fun." In truth he only assumed what it was when the woman told him that being carried over a man's shoulder was getting stolen, but what else could it mean?

"Rickon, we are too young for this!"

"Oh come on, just because adults do it doesn't mean it has to be something they get to do only."

"But I'm not ready to get married!"

Rickon tripped on himself and both of them toppled into the snow. Rickon fell flat on his face and rose up with a powdery white beard of snow that clung to his skin as it started to melt. "What do you mean, married?"

Joanna rolled onto her back and started to laugh at him. "If a Wildling wishes to take a wife, he has to steal her."

Rickon felt his stomach jump into his throat and realized what he almost did. "Sorry, I thought it was just a way you have fun or something like that."

Joanna only laughed harder as she stood up. "You're lucky I told you. If the woman fails to fight back then she can't refuse the man."

By Wildling customs, Rickon would have become her husband. "I'm sorry I accidentally tried to marry you." He brushed his beard of snow off his face and saw a hand extended down to him.

Joanna was smiling at him. "At least wait until you're older." She pulled him to his feet and started walking, but Rickon was still processing what she just said.

"Wait… what?" Did she mean she wanted him to try when he was older?

"Are you going to just stand there in the cold?"

Rickon shook the thoughts out of his head and dashed forward to catch up to her. Just as he caught up, he could have sworn he saw the remnants of a smile disappear from Joanna's mouth.

The two of them remained silent together as they return to Rickon's tent. When they entered, the others had returned with the mugs for the ale, yet everyone was sitting quietly and awkwardly. It only took Rickon a few seconds to realize why when he saw Podrick and some man Jon sparred with constantly standing in his tent. He was the one that Jon had brought before the dragons and if rumor were true, shit his pants after facing them. Ser Bronn, that was his name. Next to both them siting in a chair was Tyrion Lannister.

"You know," Tyrion started, "stealing rations is a crime that could condemn you to the Wall or losing a hand." Tyrion looked at Rickon as apparent would when they caught a child in trouble. "But if wine's all you wanted, you need only to have asked for it. You are a very powerful child after all and have a great deal of authority."

Rickon gulped and cleared his throat, standing tall to the dwarf. "I could have asked, but then it wouldn't have been as much fun." There was a tense silence as Rickon and Lord Tyrion locked eyes. It didn't last long as Bronn burst out into a fit of laughter. "How did you know we took the wine?"

Tyrion smirked at him. "Wherever there is wine, I am sure to be as well." That didn't answer Rickon's question at all. "I hope you don't mind if we join you in your little party."

Rickon looked at the keg they had and then quickly counted how many were in his tent. "With three men, I don't think it'll last as long as we hoped."

Tyrion smiled at him. "Then it's a good thing I brought some of my own." Podrick stepped aside and revealed another keg that was hiding behind him. It was larger than the one Rickon and the others nicked from the carts "I procured this from the cellars of Dragonstone. Never tasted anything with such a kick like this has. It's called Kasta Zaldrīzes. In the common tongue it means Green Dragon."

Rickon eyed the barrel then looked around his tent. Everyone was staring at him. "What are you all looking at me for? We're here to drink aren't we?" With that said, some of the boys shoved each other to get to the first drink of the Arbor Gold.

While Podrick and Bronn set up the keg of the Green Dragon, everyone began to get into their cups of the wine. Rickon had only drank Northern drinks and some of the Free Folk's fermented milk on a dare, but this would be the first time he had ever tried any kind of wine. Actually, it might be the first time anyone besides the men would be trying wine. When Rickon had his first taste, he didn't expect it to be so sweet. The flavor had a reminiscent taste of ale, but it was richer and far sweeter.

Rickon was in his third cup and chatting with some of the boys and Ser Bronn. They were telling stories and laughing like children should. Rugory was in the middle of telling a story about how he tricked his older brother to share a bed with one of the village elders. "I swear by the gods I never heard someone scream as loud as Vigrik did when he was chased out of that tent with'n axe after im. But e got me back. He told me it was possible for us wargs to enter the minds of women if we're close'nough. So I snuck close to one of the pretty ones when she was changing and tried to do it. But all that happen was me getting caught'n a bruised eye." One of the other boys laughed so hard that wine came out of his nose and all laughter was at him now. "But once I learned how to warg, watching women undress has never been easier." Rugory took a proud swig of his wine while the other boys stared at him in envy.

"Ha!" Bronn laughed. "If you just keep watchin them then you're never gonna fuck them."

"I'm only fourteen."

"So? I was thirteen when I had my first go. And now I'm betrothed to a Dornish woman." There was an awkward silence as if everyone was supposed to know what that had to do with anything. "They fuck like rabbits."

Everyone finally realized what he meant and their envy changed from Rugory to Ser Bronn.

Rickon had just finished his cup when he noticed Joanna and some on the other girls looking at him, all the while giggling.  _'Did she just tell them I almost married her?'_  He thought. He smiled back and they all turned away.

Before he could go get another cup of wine, Lord Tyrion got in his way. "Pardon my, Lord Stark. Am much as I enjoy drinking and you as well I see, might I have word before either of us gets too far into their cups?"

Rickon wasn't feeling affected by the wine. It wasn't as strong as Northern ale was. But it would be wise to take a break. He politely nodded and took a seat with Lord Tyrion.

Tyrion set his goblet to the side so he could give Rickon his full attention. "As you know, I, as Hand to the King and Queen, am also responsible for maintain order and peace in the realms. At least the ones we have governance over. Do you know what that means?"

"You help them rule when there's to much for them to do."

"Very astute of you. But as of right now, I would like to offer my services and council to you."

"Me? Why me?"

"Because when we return to Winterfell, the King and Lady Sansa have decided to make it official."

"What official?"

"Your Lordship of course. Your brother Brandon is still in his sleep, but he denounced his claim over the position when he returned. You shall no longer be heir, but Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North." Rickon failed to speak. His mouth opened but his tongue and lips formed no words. And his voice had vanished from his body. "After much discussion with the both of them and a near scolding from Lady Lyanna Mormont, we all believe that you are ready."

"But… I don't know if I am."

"My dear boy, the King has told me much of what you have done. You tried Theon Greyjoy both mercifully and justly. You stood your ground against the Northern Lords when you thought they betrayed Jon for allying with Daenerys. Though you may see it as minor, you put your life at risk for your friends during a hunt and helped organize the defense of the camps during the battle. You are young, Rickon Stark, but you have what it takes to be a lord, a good one I might add. However I must advise that you refrain from actions such as stealing supplies. I won't let it slip that you did to your family. I've done worse things at your age, believe me. But if you do not believe that you are ready to become a lord, then we won't force you. However, if you do think that you are, I must give warning to the weight of responsibility you will be taking."

"A Warning? Why would I need a warning?"

"Because you are still a child and you will become one of the most powerful people in all of Westeros. While we are at a calm for now, many will try to sneak their way into the power you have."

"How would they do that?"

Tyrion hesitated to answer. "Perhaps some wine would actually make this go smoother, but then again… oh dammit all. You are still young, but soon you will be old enough to take a wife. Powerful alliances could be made with your marriage and many would take advantage of that power. My father tried to when he had me wed your sister."

"That does remind me, are the two of you still married?"

"Oh no, no no no, we had a kind septon annul our marriage. It was unconsummated which made everything much easier. But unlike your sister, who ever you marry will have to take the name Stark. But just because that name is still the power of the north, it doesn't mean that it will be like the Starks before you."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Nothing, I am merely offering my help to root out the snakes and find someone who would both be honorable to you and create an alliance that the realm needs."

And all of this was if he decided to become a lord now. It all seemed less hard to do when all they had to worry about were the white walkers and the winter, but now they had to worry about those around them. How many would try to use him like Littlefinger tried to use Sansa? How many would try and usurp his family's seat like the Boltons and Lannisters tried? "What about Sansa and Arya? What plans do you have for them?"

"Sansa and I are still discussing a few things. As for Arya… she took the initiative and found herself a match."

That was surprising to hear. Arya never wanted to become a lady until now it seemed. "Who did she find?"

"Gendry Baratheon. And if they marry then the union of houses Stark and Baratheon King Robert wanted will be made and the Stormlands will be bound to the King and Queen."

Arya was lucky then. She would spend more with Gendry than she used to with Jon. They were friends and for something like that to happen was rare. Rickon didn't realize it, but his gaze drifted over to Joanna and Tyrion noticed.

"My my, is there someone you have in mind?"

"No, it's just… convenient is all. I almost got married tonight by Free Folk customs and here you are talking about it."

"You stole a girl did you?" Rickon returned his gaze to Tyrion, amazed that he knew about stealing. "I've been discussing things with the Free Folk and familiarizing myself with their customs."

"I didn't mean to do it. If she wasn't my friend I wouldn't have done it." A part of him wished he had done it though. He liked her more than just a friend and she did practically say to try again. "What if I could do what Arya did?"

"It what sense? Do something in defiance that works to our benefits?"

"No, find someone who I choose and who would also choose me and at the same time create a powerful alliance?"

Tyrion's brow arched high. "Do explain your idea."

"The Free Folk are going to be part of the North now, but there's still some conflict between them and the people. What if I could do something that solidified that they are Northerners just as much as we are?"

"And by something you mean talking one of them as a wife?"

"By their customs I'd have to steal her."

Tyrion started to chuckle lightly to himself. "I'll see if I can convince the other elders of such a proposal. I have already arranged three marriages between the Free Folk and some of the Northern Lords, but something like this could be a powerful symbol to both people. But if you want this to happen, then you'll have to take the job. Can you do that?"

"If this is what it takes, then yes. I'll become the Lord of Winterfell."

Tyrion smiled at him and retrieved both of their goblets from the table. "Then let us drink to such a night of planning and reward." Instead of going to the keg of Arbor gold, Tyrion filled the cups full of the Green Dragon. "I advise caution with this drink. It has a spice to the flavor." He handed Rickon's goblet to them and they both held them before drinking. "to the new Lord of Winterfell."

"And the victory over the dead." Rickon added before they clinked their goblets and drank the wine. When the last bit went down Rickon's throat, he immediately felt his face go hot. The taste had no explanation to it that made sense. It was like a he could taste fire if it had a flavor. His senses began to blur and he lost track of himself. He was beginning to regret trying the wine Lord Tyrion shared with him. His face was feeling hot enough to end winter. He nearly fumbled over someone and tripped to the ground. Regardless, Rickon decided to sit down and leaned against his nightstand. Everything was becoming hazy and he felt a spell of dizziness overcome him. Within minutes he fell asleep against his desire.

His thoughts did not calm down to rest. Everything was bouncing from one side of his skull to the other and everything in his brain was completely chaotic.

Rickon's eyes started to open slowly. His vision was blurred and he couldn't remember where he was for a brief second. He could see through the entrance of his tent the light of morning barely beginning to brighten outside. As things began to focus, his head began to ache lightly. He took in his surroundings as his vision slowly returned to him. Everyone had fallen asleep in his tent except for Lord Tyrion and his companions. In fact they were nowhere to be seen, along with the wine, the goblets, and any evidence to show that they had all been drinking last night.  _'did he steal the wine for himself, or hide it as a favor?'_  Whatever the reason, they wouldn't be caught and that was good enough for him.

Rickon felt something move on his shoulder and he turned to see what. Joanna was fast asleep next to him, her head resting on Rickon's shoulder. The warm feeling he had last night in her tent returned and he decided to let her rest there for a bit longer.

As Rickon shifted to make himself more comfortable to rest for a bit longer, he saw someone standing in his tent, a man it looked like. Whoever it was, he wasn't there a moment ago and came inside without making a sound.

Still feeling drowsy, Rickon tried to focus on the man's face alone and began to recognize it. It looked like his father, but with shorter hair and no beard. No, it wasn't him, it was Bran. But it couldn't be. Bran was still asleep in his bed as he had been for near a month now. In a state just like when he was pushed from the Broken Tower in Winterfell. And he was a cripple, so how was he able to stand?

Without muttering a single sound, Bran moved down to Rickon, almost gliding, and placed his hand over Rickon's face.

Rickon felt a cold sensation overtake his senses and he suddenly felt like he was falling fast into an abyss. The next thing he knew, he was flying at the edge of an orchard in the body of a raven. He could feel a chilled breeze blow through the feather of his wings. In the distance, perhaps two miles or so, was a pale castle. He couldn't make out the banners that hung from the ramparts, but he could see the main color was purple, maybe pink. The castle wasn't too far from a lake, or maybe it was the ocean. The sun was just rising over the horizon and illuminating the land with its warm light. Around the land were patched of snow, freshly fallen but soon to melt away.

As if appearing from nowhere, a group of women were tending to the trees. There looked to be a pair of knights keeping their distance, but obviously on guard.

The noises around were mostly quiet. Nothing but the sound of the breeze and the crashing of waves could be heard. But all of that ended when a flock of ravens far to the east of Rickon began calling out.

"M'lady," one of the women said to one of the younger ones, "you really mustn't trouble yourself with our labors. It's not fitting for your position."

The younger woman smiled at the older woman as she cut a dead branch off a tree she tended to. "As a lady, is it not my responsibility to care for my people and my lands?"

"Yes m'lady." The older woman responded. She didn't sound annoyed or upset, but rather defeat in a pleasant way. "But such tasks are very belittling to your position."

"I've spent my life doing nothing but work in a tavern and I find that being a lady of a castle gives me far less to do. I have the time, so I will spend it how I see fit until my children awaken and my duties turn to them."

Some of the other women giggled lightly. One of the younger ones spoke to the Lady of the castle. "I'm glad the Lord chose you instead of his intended, Lady Neela. I heard Lord Footly's daughter is mean young thing."

"And four years older," one of the older women said, "would've been a nasty match indeed."

The sound of the ravens began to grow louder and more annoying as it caught the attention of the women.

"Damn birds," an older woman said, "why do they have to ruin such a lovely morning?"

The flock of ravens began to move to the northeast, calling as loud as the could.

"Something must be troubling them." Lady Neela said. She set down her pruning knife and walked to the end of the orchard. She looked out to the flock and watched as they hovered just above the horizon.

Rickon felt a familiar presence coming from the ravens, one he hadn't felt since he warged with Jon and Bran his first time. Bran, the flock was Bran's, it had to be.

Rickon heard the beginnings of what he thought was thunder approaching. But the skies were clear with not a cloud in sight. He flew to the Bran's flock to see if he could find what was making the ravens riled up.

Finally, peeking over the hill ahead of the orchard like a wave of rising water, a small group of riders were galloping to them all. But then more appeared until there were hundreds of riders charging for the orchard and the castle.

One of the guards stepped ahead of Lady Neela and tried to get a better look. "Who is that?"

Coming from the castle, a bell began to ring loud. Everyone around began to panic at each clang of the metal. "Back to the castle!" Lady Neela called out. "We're under attack!"

All the ladies and the two guards immediately stopped what they were doing and began to retreat to the pale castle by the ocean.

The riders seemed to noticed as they began to cry out for battle. The branches of the trees began to rattle from the thundering of the approaching army. It looked like there was no end to the riders, like they were the size of the Dothraki Horde.

Rickon followed the women and guards as they ran to the castle. He felt the desire to help, but what could he do but watch? He could see the women running as fast as they could, but he could also see that it would be in vain. Before they even reached the end of the orchard it had become surround. Some of the riders road through the trees. One of the guards took a stand against a horse headed straight for him but the other was struck in the neck be a long spear. The remaining guard drew his sword and parried a lance away from him. He immediately struck at the horse's legs and cut one of them off. The rider was thrown from the saddle and hit one of the trees. He didn't move when he fell to the floor, most likely dead from a broken neck. But the one kill was all the guard would get as a another lance struck the guard's helm and took his head off.

The women were surrounded and it wasn't long until they were beaten and seized. Those that took them brought them all to the bridge that led to the gates of the castle. The army of horses waited at the edge, only a few accompanied the women.

Rickon flew to the battlements of the pale castle and perched himself on a ledge that gave him full view and it was close enough to hear everything.

One of the riders dismounted his horse and stepped forward. He was bald and dark skinned and wore armor that wasn't like any ever seen in Westeros. At the same time, six guards lined up on the battlements and aimed crossbows at him.

The dark skinned man smirked as he looked up to the guards. "Pleasant morning, would you say? Clear skies and a wonderful sea breeze. I don't get to see days like this in Essos that's for sure."

The guards remained silent.

"Now as you can see, we have hostages." He gestured to the women. "One of them I think you'll be very interested in." As if cued, some of the other men forced Lady Neela forward. She had a bruised lip and a cut above her brow. When the guards saw her, they slightly lowered their crossbows down.

The dark took hold of Lady Neela by the arm and threw her to the ground. "Now then, my name is Illorno Drennah, commander of the Long Lances. With me are a few other well-known Sellsword commanders. Blood Beard of the Company of the Cat," There was a man as big as Sandor Clegane with a long red beard on a horse near the foot of the bridge, "Dark Iron of the Ragged Standard," A man covered head to toe in black armor rode next to Blood Beard, "and Harley of the Jolly Fellows," the last man wore a dress of chainmail with nothing over it expect a steel pin of a laughing face. He was bald like Illorno except he had a metal pin pierced in his nose. "As much as we are itching for a fight, there wouldn't be much of one with fifteen against eight thousand. So If you surrender the castle to us, we will spare your lives and you shall be prisoners of war."

Lady Neela rose to her knees. "They cannot surrender the castle unless I order them."

Illorna drew a dirk at his side and held the blade to Neela's check. "Then this will be much easier. Order them to open the gate, or we will rape all of you until you can barely breath. The last breath of course will be you ordering the gates open for us anyway. But if you need proof of my conviction," Illorna nodded to one of his men who was with the rest of the women. The man drew a dirk from his belt and without hesitation stabbed one of the women in the neck. She fell to the ground and bled to death in just a few seconds. "Now tell them to open the gate." Illorno shoved Neela back to the ground and stood behind her with the dirk against her back. "Though I actually hope you don't. I've always wanted to fuck a girl spoiled from birth by her rich lord father."

Lady Neela began to laugh at him which no one expected. "I didn't grow up in a castle, I grew up in a tavern. And one thing I learned is when someone lies to me." She raised her head to the guards on the battlements. "Ser Raymen!"

One of the guards lowered his crossbow and locked eyes with her.

"Take the ships north!" Illorno hit her in the back of the head with his fist, knocking her out.

"Fucking hells. Was hoping we could keep this place but I guess not." Illorno turned to his men and picked Neela off the ground. "They refuse to surrender so we have our orders, burn this place to the ground!" The other women were killed immediately before dozens of archers moved forward on the bridge, all of them had blue flaming arrows knocked in their bows.

Ser Raymen and his men ducked down, but there was no need as the arrows missed completely. The sailed up to one of the towers past the inner courtyard and struck the stone. It did next to nothing to damage the castle, but moments later a large ball of fire came sailing from the thousands of riders and crashed into the castle where the arrows hit. The tower remained standing but some of the stone was knocked in, exposing the inside. Another hit and it would crumble. Hidden in the mass of soldiers were catapults, all loaded and ready to fire.

Just barely, Illorno could be heard. "She's got spirit this one. But won't do much in King's Landing. Have twenty men take her to Queen Cersei."

Ser Raymen looked down from the battlements, frustrated more than anything. "Retreat to the ships!"

Before Rickon to watch anymore, a ball of fire hit the ledge he was one and the moment the flames consumed the raven he awoke back to himself. The pain of the flames remained and Rickon could feel the burns all over his body as he screamed out in pain. It didn't last long and only a phantom memory of it remained.

The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by Arya, Jon, Sansa, Joanna, and Meera. His mind felt scarred and all the memories of what he saw began to fade away like a dream. Only bits and pieces remained.

"He's coming back." Meera said.

Jon sighed out. "Are you alright? You've been like this for an hour."

Rickon was still coming to himself, but he was able to mutter some words. "Bran… he showed me a vision."

"Bran? He's been asleep for a month, how could he have shown you anything?"

"It was a castle under attack by sellswords…"

"The mercenaries from Essos. Did you see any banners on the castle or anything that could tell us where it was?"

Rickon could hardly remember anything about the castle or lands around it. There were women, but he could remember any names. It was like a memory lost that he was on the edge of finding but couldn't reach. "I don't remember anything else, but… I think the next war has just begun."


	76. Bran I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Those of You reading my new fic The Ghost, I know I promised to get through this one fast but complications have arisen and things are going a bit slower. I shall work as well as I can and hope that things turn out for the best. So I won't estimate the finish date yet. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Bran

Lost. Bran never knew where he was or when, only that he was lost. The moment the Night King's blade struck him, he felt like a great wave of the ocean-or the Wall itself- had toppled onto him. He was falling into places unknown, into realms he could not distinguish from dreams or reality. Sometimes, he found himself in a state of the mind he could not explain. It was neither sleeping nor was it being awake, but both. Everything was out of control. His visions would take him from one place to the next without him desiring to go willingly. As soon as he would adjust to one time and place, he would be jolted somewhere else. He couldn't remember how long he had been like this. Was this how he would spend the rest of his life? Or worse, was he stuck in an eternity of this confusion where every moment lived together simultaneously? He couldn't make sense of any of it. The visions were no longer like watching falling snowflakes. Now he was watching a blizzard and stuck in the centel.

Bran watched the First Men slaughter the Children of the Forest, and as the fighting was reached its height, he found himself watching the two enemies ally against the White Walkers. He stood in one of the towers of Harrenhal as Balerion the Dread descended from the sky and unleashed the greatest dragonfire he had ever seen. When the flames surrounded him, Bran was in a different castle engulfed in flames. All around, people screamed as they burned alive. Then he was in a great hall, and in the center was a silver haired man wearing a crown before an altar with several dragon eggs. It was the tragedy at Summerhall. Before the ceiling collapsed over King Aegon the Fifth, the ground beneath Bran gave in and he found himself falling out of a sky cell at the Eyrie. He passed through a blanket of clouds and instead of falling to the Vale, he fell with thousands of other men atop the Wall as Viserion destroyed it during the battle against the dead. He felt the cold wind biting at his fingertips. Amidst all the screams, a lone raven called out and flew down after Bran, a three eyed raven. It was diving straight for him.

In his mind he could hear the raven's voice, that of a woman. 'Why do you continue to fall? Spread your wings and fly.'

Her words were easier said than done. With everything happening so fast, Bran had no time to focus. When the other men hit the ground and turned into pink mists, Bran fell through the snow like it was a layer fresh powder.

A wave of seawater rushed over Bran's feet at the edge of a shoreline. The sun was setting just as the moon was rising and all around there were nothing but racky plains. The moon starting to race across the sky and in mere second it had set and the sun rose again. The two celestial bodies kept rising and falling, faster and faster each time they went. Then the voices started to speak. Bran was all alone on the beach, but he felt as if an army was surrounding him.

"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come."

"Any man who must say 'I am the king' is no true king."

"Stay too long and you'll drown."

"Who can rule without wealth or fear or love?"

"Everyone is mine to torment."

The sounds were overwhelming. Bran fell to his knees and clasped at his ears, begging in his mind for something to make it all stop.

"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."

After hearing the words Eddard Stark once said to him long ago, everything stopped. The voices, the sun and the moon, only the waves of the ocean continued to rise and crash. But tide began to quickly rise and Bran was now knee deep in water. From the ocean's horizon, a great wave was coming like a charging Dothraki horde, only far more destructive. The waves instantly englulfed him, yet he remained standing where he was, watching the water rushed through him. Only when the sea tore the land beneath his feet was he swept by the waters and tossed side to side. He was slammed into the seabed and swallowed up.

Bran was spat out of the earth onto a grassy hill. He lay on the ground, gasping for breath, but as fast as he arrived, he was on his feet like it had never happened. But the strain of everything drained him. He felt like he was fighting ten battles at the same time. Then, for the first time, he found himself somewhere he could only describe as still.

He looked around to see vast green hills and dozens of gatherings of trees. Then, he began to recognize the landscape. He had seen this place before, many times. He was in the North, in Winterfell, though there was no castle. At the moment, the land which would once hold one of the greatest castles in the world was locked in a fierce hills lay covered in snow and two armies charged one another. On one side were tens of thousands of First Men alongside hundreds of giants and Children of the Forest riding direwolves and wielding weapons of dragonglass. On the other side was the army of the dead and the White walkers, more than Bran had ever seen.

The moment the two forces met, a wolf's howl echoed throughout the land and the battle was already over. Only a few thousand living survived and pushed the dead back. Standing next to Bran was a man wielding a greatsword that resembled Ice, but the blade was regular iron. The man had long brown hair and a thick beard. He wore a bronze crown on his head adorned with iron swords. He was a King of Winter, a Stark. He raised his sword and the light of the sun gleamed off the blade, reflecting it over the whole valley. He spoke aloud with a booming voice like a dragon. "This is our Victory! This is our world. Let men of ice and their wretched puppets know from this day until the end of time that this is where they were defeated, this is where we won, this is where winter fell!"

The men, giants, and children of the forest all cheered for the man. "Brandon! Brandon! Brandon!"

The next thing Bran knew, summer had returned to the lands and the all men and the giants were working to build Winterfell. The stone was newly shaped and clean of any erosion. The castle was paler in color than what Bran had grown up in.

Without choosing to be, Bran was in the Godswood of Winterfell except there were no trees. It was all just a large patch of dirt. He could see Brandon the Builder gathered with some of the Children of the Forest. One of them had a seed in her hand and gently planted it into the ground. The Children began to move and sing while Brandon merely watched. The words of the Children echoed on the air and rippled in the soil of the earth. Within moments a red leaf attached to a pale white stem sprouted from the ground where the seed was planted.  
The Children ceased their singing and the child who planted it turned to Brandon.

Bran recognized her. "Leaf," he muttered under his voice.

Leaf took hold of Brandon's hand and placed it over his chest. Her words of the common tongue were heavy with an accent of the old tongue. "Listen to the earth, listen to the water, listen to the trees. They will whisper of the man who conquered winter, the man who defeated death. They will sing their songs for you, Brandon Stark. They will remember you, and they will repay you."  
Brandon looked confused. "Repay me?"

"This home of stone, it shall be yours, even when you join the earth to sleep forever you will remain here to watch over your blood. Your children, their children, and all of your blood after them shall watch over their kin. Until the day comes that spring is lost, the Starks shall be forever."

She smiled at him knowingly, but then her head turned slowly and she was now looking directly at Bran. In fact, all of the Children were. Their gazes pierced right into him.

Bran didn't say anything, he felt too afraid. He took a step back and felt a hand wrap around his ankle and pull him down into the ground. Bran sank down quickly and fell into a cave he once knew. The weirwood roots and moss had covered every inch of the walls and ground. The only thing missing was the Three Eyed Raven before him, Brynden Rivers. The roots that entangled him were empty and there wasn't a single trace of him or any of those that died that night. One thing was for certain though, he felt calm and at peace. The strain on his mind was fading away and he finally felt he had some time to gather himself.

From one of the tunnels, the three eyed raven from the Wall flew in and perched itself on one of the roots low to the ground. It fluttered its feathers and stared up at Bran. It cawed out to him and took flight once more. Circling around in the cave, it flew behind the weirwood roots and didn't appear on the other side. Bran walked around them but saw no trace of the bird. Instead, appearing from behind the roots was a woman. She looked just a few years older than him. She had short curly brown hair and a freckled face. Her eyes were hazel brown and she had a comforting smile about her. She wore a long black dress with a mantle over her shoulders of silver wolf fur. Flowing down her back like water was a thick black cloak.

Bran didn't recognize her and at the same time he did. Something about this woman calmed him. "Who are you?"

She snorted at him and slowly walked towards him, her movements gilded with grace. "I would've thought the raven would have given me away." A northern accent was present in her voice. For being a Three Eyed Raven she had a pleasant mood about her.

"I assumed what you were, but who are you?"

She stood face to face with him. "You can call me Winter Lily, and I'm here to help you get out of this pandemonium you're trapped in. How else do you think you've stayed in one place for as long as you have now?"

Bran hadn't paid attention to that until now. Ever since entering this state he had been going from one place and time to another, but now he was at a moment that he could stay at. "You're doing this?"

"I had a wonderful teacher."

"Then can you wake me up?"

Winter Lily's eyes fell to the ground but she kept herself smiling. "Only you can do that. But first you have to find something you lost." She held a small hand out to him. "Come, let me show you what you have missed in your sleep."

Bran looked down to her hand and back to her. She was always smiling at him and he didn't understand why. Regardless he took her hand and the too of them were taken from the cave to the North. They were in the army's encampment along the Kingsroad, three days from Winterfell. The sky was clear and the fresh snow lit the world like an early from the cold light of the full moon. In the distance, a lone wolf could be heard howling into the night.

Winter Lily's smile grew. "He's getting closer."

"Who?"

"You'll see. Come, walk with me." She guided him into the camps, her dress flowed with the winds and reflected the moonlight like the surface of water. They came to the inside of Sansa's tent, she was sitting at her bed while Arya was seated in a chair.

"No!" Arya exclaimed. "I am not wearing a damn dress!"

"Arya, please?" Sansa begged. "It will only be for one night and making clothes is one of my strengths. You'll look beautiful."

Bran became confused. "A dress? What for?"

Winter Lily pointed back to Arya and Sansa, meaning to wait and listen.

"Sansa, I don't want to, I don't like being prettied up. I'm a fighter, not a lady." Arya looked disappointed in herself more than she was irritated at Sansa. "I just… I don't feel ready for this. I think I acted too rash, just like in Riverrun." Arya stared at her left arm.

Sansa sighed as she got up from the bed and kneeled down to Arya. "Arya, from what I've experienced, marriage is a different battle on its own. And from what I've seen between you and Gendry, no woman except you deserves him and no man expect him deserves you."

Arya smiled lightly at her sister and took a deep breath. "If it's for one night, then I'll were the damn white dress."

"If it will make you feel better, I'll make a pair of breeches to go with it."

Arya began to giggle uncontrollably as did Sansa.

Bran couldn't believe what he heard. "Arya, getting married?"

"Aye," Winter Lily confirmed, "the union Robert Baratheon wanted is underway."

A son of Baratheon blood and a daughter of Stark blood.

Bran and Winter Lily were now walking close behind the Northern guards escorting Rickon and two other men in plate armor from the waist up escorting Jon.

"You remember what to say?" Jon asked.

"Yes Jon, I've been practising the lordly customs and courtesies. Sansa has been training me more than Anguy did with archery."

Jon chuckled. "Well she is the best person to learn from. But if courtesies were left in the south, I think you already have all the makings to be to be the next Lord of Winterfell."

Rickon slowed his pace. "I never imagined I would become the one to inherit our home."

Jon stopped walking and everyone did. He turned to the guards. "Could you give us a moment?" The guards nodded respectfully and spread out far enough to give jon and Rickon some privacy. Jon stood face to face with Rickon. "I understand if your nervous, even more so if your afraid. But remember that father wasn't meant to rule Winterfell either, uncle Brandon was. He was the one brought up to be lord, but then he died and father had to take on the duties. He taught me and Robb everything I taught you."

Rickon shook his head. "It's not that. I'm just… I miss him. Father, mother, Robb. I miss everyone. They should've been here, but they all went south and never came back." Rickon looked up to Jon. "I don't want you to go south and never come back. It's not where we belong."

Jon knelt down to Rickon. "I am a Stark, but I'm also a Targaryen. And no words of bad luck will keep me from coming home."

Rickon hugged Jon tightly and Jon returned it.

Without realizing it, the Bran and Winter Lily where inside one of the command tents. Seated around table were Tyrion Lannister, Robett Glover, Rodrick Forrester, Gwyn and Torrhen Whitehill, and Lyanna Mormont. At the Head was Rickon and across from him was Jon. Behind both of them were two guards standing by. Bran recognized the two men behind Jon as the men from the Golden Company, Will Cole and Lorimas Mudd. Both of them wore fresh forged armor with the Targaryen sigil below the collar of the breastplate.

"What are those two doing here?" Bran asked.

"It is the duty of the Kingsguard to guard the King, is it not?" Winter Lily told him. "They offered their swords to the King and Queen and were granted positions for their valor in battle and loyalty to the Targaryens. For now, Ser Jorah is serving as Lord Commander."

"For now?" Bran asked.

Winter Lily's eyes widened. "Shh, they're about to begin." Bran noticed a hint of gloom in her eyes. She knew something but obviously wouldn't say what.

Jon was addressing them all. "My lords, my ladies, as much as we all want to deny it, the North is reaching the point of weakening greater than ever. Our fighting strength is less than ten thousand men and our foods stores may not last through the winter even with the food the lords of the Reach provided for the battle."

Lord Forrester spoke up. "I'm assuming you have a solution, your grace?"

Tyrion was now addressing the lords of the North. "As you may have heard already, young Rickon Stark has agreed to take up the position of Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North." Most of those who sat at the table nodded in agreement pridefully. "But with very little experience and his house still rebuilding, we have asked him to chose those who he needs help." Tyrion nodded to Rickon who stood up from his seat at the table.

"Lord Glover, you are one of the few men of the North who know it more than anyone and a well experienced battle commander. In the forthcoming days, I would ask for your council and wisdom to strength the North."

Robett Glover nodded. "It would be my honor, my lord."

"Lady Mormont, you have as much of a strong rule as every other lord in the North. I would ask that you give council to me on how to rule fairly and just."

Lyanna smirked at him. "I will do what I can to help House Stark return to its strength."

Jon, Rickon, and Tyrion all looked pleased. Jon spoke up. "Thank you, Lord Glover, Lady Mormont. These positions will be considered a great honor and service to both House Stark and the crown. Tonight, you shall both provide what you have been asked of."

Lord Glover looked a bit confused. "How so, your grace?"

Jon nodded to Tyrion. "The King and Queen and I have gone over a few ideas to help bring back the lost strength of the North and at the same time establish strong relations with the Free Folk. Lord Glover, I believe you were told of the proposal to raise House Forrester allegiance to House Stark?"

"Aye, I was. The Whitehills will take their place serving under my House."

Torrhen Whitehill, a man of cold blonde hair, spoke. His eyes almost as cold as Roose Bolton's but a certain calmness resided in them. "There isn't much of our House left, your grace." He spoke with harshness in his voice. "My father was a fuck up who nearly brought it to ruin and Gryff was a fool who got killed by him." He pointed to Rodrick Forrester. "We have less than a hundred men left. Any resistance we try to stage will be met with the extinction of our house, so we have no choice but to accept."

Lyanna spoke up with her fierce tone. "You make it sound like you were already planning a rebellion. I can assure you that as long as a Stark is in Winterfell, no house in the North will ever hope to challenge them. Winter will always come for those who do."

Jon looked at Torrhen firmly. "There is always a choice, and your father and brother chose to desecrate Ironrath and House Forrester. Ramsay Bolton killed Ethan Forrester, but Gryff Whitehill killed Asher."

"Not before Asher killed nine of his men." Rodrick intruded, a smirk hinted on his mouth.

Jon shot him a look and Rodrick settled down. "They paid the price as did the men who fought for them. We can't keep letting old grudges destroy us again and again. Or is the North to suffer as House Martell has with endless vengeance?"

Gwyn Whitehill spoke calmly but hurt. "And what is it you propose? I tried to bring peace between our two houses but the Forresters just kept rebelling-"

"Enough!" Jon slammed his fist on the table. Gwyn was upset but kept a calm complexion. After a few moments to take a breather, Jon resumed. "To start the beginning of the end of the conflict between the two houses, Lord Tyrion has suggested a proposal of marriage between Lady Gwyn and a man of Forrester blood."

"A man?" Gwyn said. "Rodrick is already married and the next male heir is Ryon, a boy of twelve."

"They aren't talking about Ryon," Rodrick informed, "they're talking about my bastard brother, Josera Snow."

Jon nodded. "I've spoken with Josera and he has agreed to take a position as a lord. He will be naturalized and has chosen the name Icewood. He will be given the Dreadfort, but the lands it holds will be reduced and divided to the other lords. His House's status will be a lesser house serving under House Forrester."

Gwyn looked to Rodrick then back to Jon. "And if I say no?"

Tyrion sighed. "Then you won't marry him and live out your days as you choose. But you shall remember that there a chance to bury the conflicts between the families and it was passed by."

There was a pregnant silence before Gwyn took in a deep breath and sighed. "I'll do it. For the sake of my family I will do it."

Torrhen clenched his fist. "Is this our punishment? Highpoint will see another Whitehill leave its halls never to return?"

"Torrhen," Gwyn said, "just… don't." Torrhen was angry, but he listened to his sister. She was younger, but she clearly had more of a governing authority.

Everyone looked at each other and let things sink in. "I thank you for accepting this, Lady Gwyn. I understand if you hold discontent towards us for asking this. However if you were to take advice from me, I would try and get to know Josera before we reach Winterfell."

"Is that when we'll be wed?"

"A few days after we all settle in. You, Josera, and then four more weddings in one night."

Rickon's eyes widened. "Five weddings in one night?"

"Aye, Gwyn and Josera, Arya and Gendry, and the other three are the other reason we asked you here lord Glover."

"Your grace?" Lord glover asked.

Tyrion spoke up. "As Lord Rickon mentioned, you have knowledge of the North politically and strategically. The North needs to strengthen itself in all directions and we would ask of your council."

"My council for what, Lord Tyrion?" He spoke to Tyrion as Torrhen did to Jon.

"Which castles could use lords in them once again. Alys Karstark has agreed to be wed to Siggorn of the Thenns and will take a new name, however she will remain governing over Karhold until her baby brother comes of age. But when he does, she and her husband and their children, should they have any by then, will have need of someplace to live, wouldn't you agree?"

Robbett glared at Tyrion. "You arranged for Lady Karstark to be wed to a Wildling?"

"We did," Jon told him, "as well as Wynafred Manderly and Roose Ryswell. All of them agreed to do this of their own will. Even Rickon has made the choice to take one for a wife when he is of age."

"Steal one." Rickon corrected. Jon and Tyrion were the only ones amused at that.

"All of them are marrying Wildlings?" Lord Glover locked eyes with Jon. "I didn't follow you into battle because you led an army of Wildlings, I doubted your leadership because you treated with Wildlings, I didn't trust having two thousand foreigners taking the black, and do you know what?" Everyone held their breaths. "I have been proven wrong every time." He looked defeated, but in a good way for him, as if he was finally understanding humility. "If Roose Ryswell is to be given his own lordship, I would suggest giving him a position to strengthen the Rills near the shore. They could become a line of defense for Torrhen's Square. Lady Wynafred and her betrothed…"

"Morgan of the Frozen Shore Men." Tyrion informed.

"They should reside in Old Castle to support her Grandfather and strengthen our navy. As for Lady Karstark, a place on her family's lands would be ideal, but there are fewer houses in the west and lands untouched and rich for settling."

"The lands may be rich, but it will take too long to settle." Jon informed. "Almost all the castle are in ruin and the winters there are worse than they are in the east. What about the Coldhill Fortress?" Jon suggested.

"Coldhill?" Tyrion inquired. "I'm afraid I do not know of that castle."

Lord Glover explained. "It's the castle that belonged to the ancient House Frost before they were wiped out by the Kings of Winter. It rests between the Grey Hills and the forest that surrounds Karhold. There are copper mines that were abandoned as well."

"Abandoned? What for?" Tyrion asked. No one gave reply, in fact they all looked dumbfounded. "Doesn't anyone know the reason?" Again, no one gave any reply. "You mean to tell me that there are mines that have gone untouched for centuries, no, thousands of years?" Tyrion was astonished at them all. He puffed out and slumped back in his chair. "Why is there never wine when you need it?"

Winter Lily chuckled. "It's not just the copper mines. There are many rich resources in the North, forgotten as time went on."

Bran shrugged. "The Northerners always valued keeping the land as a home rather than a place of profits and value." Bran flinched when he suddenly heard the howling wolf again, but this time it sounded like it was just outside the tent. There was something about the echo and the tone of the wolf's voice that resonated with something inside of Bran. Strangely, no one else but him was reacting to it. "What is that?" He went to step outside of the tent.

"Bran, wait!" Winter Lily called out to him, but he already set foot outside the tent and was already somewhere else.

Bran stood on a rocky ledge, looking down into the heart of a volcano. Hot air passed through him and brushed his hair back furiously. The lava was acting violently and there were constant blasts of it shooting high into the air. The molten rock was constantly changing its hot color from red to yellow as it shifted and turned.

Close to Bran's position was a ceremonial platform carved into the stone. Surrounding it were three stone dragons. On the platform were a dozen men, wearing elegant robes and chanting in High Valyrian. One of them was in the center and he held his arms above his head. A red light began to shine in the space between his hands and it grew to the size of an apple. The man fell to his knees and slammed the orb of light it the black stone floor and the light rippled all throughout the volcano. The Lava began to calm down and settle as the light flowed over it.

But without warning everything became much worse. The lava was now rising and the very foundations of the volcano shook. The platform cracked and split from the mountain. All of the men screamed as they were consumed by the lava. The volcano was on the verge of erupting before Bran was taken somewhere new.

He was in the middle of field of dry grass on the eve of morning. Frost formed at the tips of the grass blades. There was no sound of it crunching under his feet nor did he feel the trickling cold. There were hills and mountains around him covered in light patches of snow and from his intuition and abilities, he knew he was near the Red Mountains in Dorne. From out of nowhere behind him a squad of horses with riders galloped past him and soon they were followed by an army. He saw many of the riders flying banners, ones that he recognized. The Company of the Cat, the Long Lances, the Jolly Fellows, and the Ragged Standard.

Bran did not remember any time in history that these sellsword companies were ever in Westeros. This has to be very recent, they had to be under Cersei's employ. The direction they were headed for was east, towards the coast.

'Where are they going?' Bran thought. On a nearby hill was a dead tree with a dozen ravens perched on the branches. He warged into the flock and took to the skies, reaching high enough to see the valley around for miles. On the edge of the horizon were the shores of Dorne and a small white speck was resting on the border of the sea and the land. The flock passed the horses and the speck grew into a castle, a pale castle with purple banners housing a shooting star crossing a white sword. 'House Dayne, that's castle Starfall.' The sellswords were hidden by a hill and still too far away to be noticed by anyone on watch duty in the castle. 'Cersei's begun her attack, Jon needs to know.' But how could he tell anyone? He couldn't control where he went or reach anyone besides the children of the forest it seemed. 'Rickon, Rickon has the sight, I need to show him.' Bran used every ounce of his power and mind to take himself to Rickon, it didn't matter where he was, as long as he could go to sometime when they came home.

Bran felt something rush through him and he was standing in a tent filled with children, all of them were sound asleep. Sitting back against a nightstand with a girl resting on his shoulder was Rickon. He was beginning to wake up, but Bran felt himself starting to slip away from where he was. He had to act now. He locked eyes with his little brother just before he swooped down and touched his face with his hand. He felt himself pulled back into Dorne and Rickon was warged into one of the ravens. Bran could feel himself relieved, but it disappeared when the horsemen arrived and began their attack. By the time the castle had seen the army, Bran heard the howling wolf again and he was taken back into the cave of the Three Eyed Raven.

He fell to the ground and felt a pain in his back. He started to stand up, but his legs wouldn't move, he couldn't feel them. "No…" he tried to shift and turn so that he would feel them again, but it was to no avail. "No no no no no!" He started to panic before he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He turned his and saw Winter Lily kneeling beside him.

"It's alright," she told him, "this was going to happen eventually."

"Eventually?" Bran asked, anger present in his tone.

Winter Lily place her hand on his leg and a sudden warmth entered Bran's body. His legs twitched before the jerked from his movements. He sighed out as he got to his feet.

"What's happening to me?"

"Your mind is losing track of what is the sight and what is real. Your legs will give out before you start to become lost forever." She stood up and faced him. "But that won't happen as long as you stay with me."

Bran wanted to feel afraid, concerned, everything he could to be panicking right now, but he felt nothing. "I heard a wolf howling again."

"Aye, it's how I found you."

"What is it? I've been hearing it ever since I was trapped in the sight."

"It's something you lost. If I tell you, you'll never find it. But if you find it as you are now, you can never regain it."

This was making no sense. But rather than questioning what Winter Lily meant, Bran was questioning who she was over and over again in his mind.

Winter Lily smiled at him. "I promise I'll tell you everything, but if I am going to, you need to listen. Not to me, but to yourself, to the things you want to feel but can't." She held her hand out to him.

Bran looked at her into her eyes and saw a familiarity in them, but he was not sure where he recognized them. He took her hand and both of them were taken back the the camps. It was the same evening that they were just at, only later into the night.

Bran followed Winter Lily beyond the camps, their steps not leaving a single print in the snow. They were approaching where the dragons had taken to nest. All three of them were huddled together in a large circle. In the center, wrapped in extra thick furs and leaning back on Drogon was Jon and Daenerys. Her belly was much bigger than it was at the battle, so big there was no way she could ride the dragons anymore. Clutched in each of their arms was a dragon egg. Daenerys held the red one Ser Jaime brought to them and Jon held a gray one Bran had never seen yet.

Winter Lily stopped Bran as the got close enough. "In just over a month, the Queen will give birth to the next Targaryens."

"Aemon and Matthias." Bran stated. He stood with Winter Lily in silence and listened to Jon singing to Daenerys, his children, and the dragons. His words seemed to echo in the night.

"Though the winds of winter blow  
They will never scare the crow  
Never shall we knock Death's door  
For the lands above we'll soar  
When the King came striking down  
Our steel did break his crown  
His touch turned all to ice  
In the snows was his demise  
And then the skies did fill with light  
Our brothers have won the fight  
The fires of the dawn did come  
And the colds of winter undone  
Then the one who was lost shall win  
And the greatest of ages shall begin  
When all finds peace in the end  
The world forever we'll defend  
The wolves will howl and the dragons cry  
Through fire and ice together we'll fly."  
Daenerys nestled her head on Jon's shoulder and let the words sooth into her soul. "I can feel them Jon. I can feel our sons listening."

"Do they like it?"

"Yes, they do."

Bran started to feel a flutter of envy spur inside of him and a weight over his heart. He felt sad, or rather he was starting to feel something again. He felt a tear trickle down his check and was quick to wipe it away.

Winter Lily noticed this. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. I don't remember what this feeling means." He tried to focus on the memories he had as Bran Stark and the times he had felt like this. He felt this way when he had to focus on his studies while Rickon played with Shaggydog and Summer. At that point he'd no longer been able to walk, so there was no point for him to learn archery or how to fight. "I will never be able to have a moment like this in my life. I traded all chances of it happening when he became the Three Eyed Raven."

Instead of showing any sign of concern or sympathy, she smiled happily at him. "And yet here you are, feeling jealousy and sadness." She turned to face him.

"But how to I feel more? How do I be Brandon Stark when I can see every moment of everything happening all at once. There's so much to see, how do I focus on being what I was?"

"Learn to close your eyes to it all." She held her hand out to him once again. "Close your eyes." She whispered.

Bran let his eyelids weigh down like the fatigue of well deserved rest.

"What do you want to see?"

What did he want to see? What does he need to see? The war for the dead was over, but the war with Cersei had yet to begin. Starfall was attacked, who knows what other castles were as well. He should find a time and place that is vital to winning the war. But there was a part of him that didn't want to think about that, a part of him that desired something else, something for him. "Meera." He whispered. Bran felt Winter Lily take his hand.

"Open your eyes."

When Bran opened his eyes, he found himself in his room at Winterfell. He was lying on his bed as limp and silent as he was after his fall. His face had gone unshaved for a few days and he had a few whiskers sprouting all along his chin. But grasping him hand was Meera. She was sitting at his bedside and wearing a formal dress, something Bran would've never imagined her wearing.

The was a knock on the door shortly before it opened and Howland Reed walked in. Bran was starting to become very confused. "When is this?"

"The right place and the right time, two weeks after what we just saw." Winter Lily's smile disappeared and she motioned for Bran to go to Meera.

Bran walked over and stood behind Meera, watching her watch him. Her head was fallen down like she was asleep, but Bran knew she wasn't."

"Bran." Meera said.

Bran gasped when she said his name, thinking maybe she knew he was here, but her words were to the sleeping body on the bed. She lifted her head up and looked down at him.

"I don't know if you can hear me. Maybe if you wake up you'll see this happen. If you do, I'm want you to know that this is the moment I say goodbye."

For a second, Bran felt a pain in his heart unlike any he ever felt.

"I'm going home to Greywater in a few days. I've accepted who you are, I guess I wasn't just ready to when I left you here the first time. I wanted to say something to you, but I couldn't bare to after realizing that you're not who I brought to that cave. Now, if I say it, I'll be looking back for the rest of my days, and I can't let myself do that." She leaned forward and planted a light kiss on his forehead. "Goodbye Bran." She got up from her chair and swiftly left the room.

"Meera!" Bran started to walk after her, but Winter Lily grabbed his arm.

"You can't leave, or else you'll be thrown back into the chaos of the sight."

Bran looked at her then back to the doorway. He wanted to ignore her, he wanted to run, he wanted to shout, so he did. Bran tore his arm out of Winter Lily's grip and ran after Meera, calling out her name.

"Meera!" Bran was right behind her and reached out to touch her. The moment before his finger touched her hair, he heard the wolf howling again, this time it sounded right behind him.

Bran fell through the floor and was back inside the cave. He looked all around him and saw Winter Lily, standing before him and smiling more than she ever did. "Well done." she said.

"No! Take me back, I have to see her!"

A familiar voice spoke from behind Bran. "You can't go back." This voice was one Bran knew all too well, it was his voice. He turned around and saw himself crawling on the floor of the cave. "Not yet."


	77. Jon XXI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helo everybody, just a quick announcement. For those of you who do not know yet, I have done a rewrite and gave Arya back her hand. Chapters after that event have been updated to match the change.  
> Also, I'm not sure if the images I dadded will show up so just in case I will give links to them at the end.

Jon

Jon stood at the base of the weirwood, waiting to conduct the last wedding for the night and the one he would be most proud of. It had been snowing lightly all throughout the night as the four others had happened. First was Roose Ryswell and a spearwife name Gletta of the Cave People. Once the face paint and other messes had been washed off of her, she was fairer than most in the south with hair as black as the midnight sky. After Him was Gwyn Whitehill and Josera Snow, now Lord and Lady of House Icewood of the Winterfort, no longer named the Dreadfort. Josera was stricken with Gwyn, yet she remained cold as stone much like Lady Catelyn was towards Jon. Then it was Wynafred Manderly and Morgan of the Frozen Shore Men. Together they wed and began House Frostshore. After them it was Alys Karstark and Siggorn of the Thenns. He was years older than her, but no more than eight. Little did any of the other lords know that Alys and Siggorn planned to be wed before Tyrion could think of it. Siggorn would create the House Thenn and the both of them would rule in Karhold for five years, hopefully by then, Rickard II Karstark would be old enough to learn from his mother and advisors.

All of the Free Folk were welcome to marry at the Godswood seeing as they were just as faithful to the old gods as the Northerners were. The men were told of bedding ceremonies beforehand. Morgan and Siggorn threatened to kill any man who dare touched their brides, so as a gesture of good faith the men were welcomed to steal their wives when the time came.

Finally, the last of the weddings was about to begin. Daenerys stood next Sansa, Missandei, and Brienne to watch on the bride's side of the onlookers while Tyrion in front of Sandor Clegane, both of whom were behind Ser Davos who was behind Gendry. He was dressed in a fine black doublet with his sigil, a stag's head over an anvil, sewn in gold over his left breast. His beard was finely trimmed and he looked groomed to look like the Lord he had to be. It was surprising to many that Gendry managed to get himself clean after spending over a week in the forge with twelve other smiths. All of them had been working day and night on a special project that no one knew about. However, Jon suspected that Daenerys knew because the day of their return to Winterfell, Gendry had a private meeting with her and she had been keeping something to herself ever since.

All went silent as Rickon walked into the Godswood with Arya holding onto his arm. Jon wasn't prepared to see Arya in a beautiful white wedding dress, she was groomed to be like a lady like her mother wanted and for probably the only time it would happen, Arya looked happy about it.

Jon straightened when Rickon and Arya reached the foot of the heart tree, the lanterns' light was reflecting the red of the leaves and made them look like rubies flickering in the night.

Jon stepped forward and began to ceremony. "Who comes before the Old Gods this night?"

Rickon began his part. "Arya, of House Stark, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn, and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?" Arya shifted slightly and looked slightly unsettled. She still didn't have the amount of comfort doing this as she thought she would.

Gendry looked at her and noticed her discomfort. He stepped forward and did as he was instructed, but only he decided to word things different. "Gendry, of House Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End. I've not come to claim her but take her of her own free will."

Davos and Tyrion's eyes widened in either shock or amazement, maybe both. Jon kept his composure but felt as they did. He'd never heard of this before and felt a sort of satisfaction that he would do that for Arya. She looked at him, her discomfort fading away. She wasn't sure how to proceed and neither did Jon, but she decided to go with it. "My choice is to be his, from now until always."

Gendry smiled the slightest and looked back to Jon. "Who gives her?"

Rickon looked more relieved than anyone. This was his first time to give away a bride, and he looked more nervous than he did when he wed Jon to Daenerys. "Rickon, of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, her brother."

Even though Arya had already given her answer, Jon proceeded. "Lady Arya," Arya's face twitched when Jon called her a lady, "do you take this man?"

She looked at Gendry and tried not to smile but she failed. "I take this man." And with those words, Arya Stark was now Arya Baratheon.

The Night was ripe for celebration. However, given the size of the Great Hall in Winterfell, the lords and ladies were taken to the longhouse built for the war council as to fit the number of them gathering together.

To accommodate the celebrations of the great victory and the five weddings, two high table were built. One for the King and Queen and the Starks of Winterfell, the other for those who were married. Jon and Daenerys's places where in the middle of the longhouse, the Starks to their left and the married few on the right. Decorating the walls were the banners of every House that fought, including the new banners for the new Northern Houses. House Icewood's sigil sported a white snow bear resting between two ironwood trees on a pale blue field. Roose Ryswells took his own form of his family's sigil. The colors of the Ryswell horse were reversed and the eyes of the red horse were turned to green after his own. House Frostshore took a blue and grey whale in a cold green sea. Siggorn remained loyal to his people and made his and Alys' sigil a bronze disk of the Thenns. Siggorn had been taken with the ideals of the Lord of Light ever since Jon's second resurrection and chose to add the red flames of the R'hollor around the disk, honoring the red god, the power of the dragons, and the sigil of House Karstark.

Once everyone had settled in, Jon and Daenerys both stood up from their seats with silver goblets in hand filled with a simple wine. All who were present in the longhouse stood up with them, goblets and tankards in hand.

Jon spoke loudly and his voice echoed to all of them. "As we begin to rejoice in our victory, we raise a glass to those who gave their blood and their lives. Hail the victorious dead!"

All in the longhouse repeated after him. "Hail the victorious dead!" everyone took a drink of their wine in honor of the dead, the last right they had to do for those that fell. Once everyone had set down their drinks, Jon nodded to a group of minstrels and hey began to play music loud for all to hear.

Though the occasion was considered a feast, the food was nothing more than the nightly rations with a few extra servings of game that was hunted in the week since everyone's return. The armies were treated to a few extra barrels of ale and wine, but for once, maybe the only time ever, the Northmen hardly had any. There was still a great distrust of the Lannister forces and those that previously served House Frey, so many kept their distance and made sure they were armed for tonight's weddings.

As things began to get started, many friends and family members of the newlyweds began to present them with wedding gifts. Josera was given an Ironwood shield from Rodrick, Lord Manderly had three ships made for Wynafred and Morgan. Even Roose's wife, Gletta, presented him with a stone that rippled like a rainbow from her cave in the far north. But to Jon and Daenerys's surprise, many lords began to line up to them. The room started to settle down as many stepped forward.

Rodrick Forrester was at the head of the line. "My King, my Queen, as your wedding was one that we had hardly any time to prepare for, there are many of us who had yet to present gifts to you both. And now with the victory over the dead, we can only offer so much for everything you've done." Rodrick nodded to some of his men who left the building but came back with two cribs made of ironwood. In the sides were carvings of dragons and direwolves.

Daenerys was nearly moved to tears seeing them. Underneath the table she held Jon's hand tightly. Many of the gifts presented were meant for their children. Sansa presented Daenerys with some clothes she stitched for each of them, some had dragons and some had direwolves.

But once Lord Edmure took his turn, the gifts began to shift to Jon and Daenerys directly. "Your Graces, I have been discussing tactics with my fellow lords of the Riverlands, and given what we know about Cersei Lannisters plan in King's Landing, there could be still be a chance we lose the city." He cleared his throat after the dull reminder. "Given that the Red Keep would also be destroyed, you would be in need of a castle, somewhere at the center of Westeros. So I would give you the castle of Harrenhal and the lands it holds." There was a great murmuring from all the guests. Even though Harrenhal was in a ruin, it was still a mighty fortress, one of the greatest in the world. "When the war is over, I and many of the lords have arranged for the castle's repair to its former glory."

"Lord Edmure," Jon said, "you honor us, but surely such a place to too valuable to simply give."

Edmure smirked at him. "This is all only meant if the Red Keep should fall, but Harrenhal has been the home to near a dozen lords, all of whom failed to keep a hold over it. Harrenhal is a place not meant for any lord or lady, but a King and Queen."

Jon looked at Daenerys and she seemed to not have any issue with such a thing. And if King's Landing is destroyed, the lands would be defiled by the wildfire. People would need a new place to settle and the area around Harrenhal was vast and rich as far as Jon knew. And the Blackwater Rush did fork into the Gods Eye lake, making it perfect for ships to port. Maybe Edmure was right, it's a place meant for Kings and Queens.

"Thank you, Lord Edmure. Even if the Red Keep should remain standing, we'll be sure to remember the generosity you have given the Queen and I."

Edmure bowed to both of them before his wife, Roslin, stepped forward and bowed to her knees.

"My king," she spoke softly and with a tone of fear in her voice, "my family dishonored the Stark's by breaking the guest right. They killed King Robb and Lady Catelyn and dishonored their bodies. But, my father kept something as a trophy, something that belongs in Winterfell." She held the box out in front of her. "Inside is the skull of Robb Stark, the King in the North, the only remnants of his body."

Jon froze, as did Sansa, Arya, and Rickon when they heard about the contents of the box. Jon stood up from his seat and stepped down from his table. Roslin looked absolutely terrified, but Jon calmly took the box from her and opened it. There was white skull inside, and though there was no skin or face or hair, Jon knew in his heart that this was Robb's. He gently closed the lid and knelt down to Roslin.

"I can't thank you enough for returning his remains, Roslin. And you have no reason to be afraid. You had no part in Robb's death."

Roslin looked up to Jon, relieved and faintly smiling. She rose up with him. "Thank you for your mercy, your grace." Edmure led her away from Jon as soon as he returned to his seat next to Daenerys. One of the servants took the box from Jon to be placed in his room until the time was right to place it in Robb's tomb in the crypts.

Edric Dayne approached Jon and Daenerys after Rolsin, he too held a box in his hands. "My King, my Queen, if I recall, I lost a duel and a wager. So as promised," Edric opened the box and revealed a crown adorned with many fine rubies, "the Crown of Aegon the Conqueror." Many of the lords were marveled when they saw light flickering from the rubies and the Valyrian steel.

Jon never imagined it to look as beautiful as it did, the ripples of the steel made a pattern like fire and the rubies were as red as Ghost's eyes. The fittings that held the jewels were careful shaped into dragon claws.

Edric stepped forward and brought the crown up to the both of them, but Daenerys was the one intrigued by it the most. She took it out of the box and held it delicately like she would the dragon eggs. "The crown worn by our ancestors." She spoke. "The crown of the dragons." She set it back into the box. "Lord Edric, you are an honorable man for returning this artifact of our house back to us. We shall not forget it."

Edric bowed his head and gave the box to another one of the servants. After him was Gendry, and he had a large grin about his face.

"I don't mean to make this a competition of who gives the best gift, but mine will speak for themselves." One of his men was behind him with a object covered by a cloth. "With the help of the Umber smiths, and four straight days of work, we have created a sword worthy of you."

Gendry grabbed onto the cloth and tore it away, revealing the best sword Jon had ever seen. He got out of his seat, eager to see his new weapon. At first he thought it was a recreation of Longclaw given that the pommel was a white direwolf with ruby eyes, but at closer look, the pommel looked more fearsome and less of a wet wolf, there was more than what he noticed. The guard was shaped into two dragons, their heads made the ends of it and their wings intertwined and made a rise, and in the center was a small gem of dragonglass. The handle was no longer black, but white, the wood was of a weirwood tree. Two thirds down the handle, just below the pommel, was a metal ring with a dragon and a direwolf. Wrapped in a spiral down the wood of the handle was a single black chain. "The hilt is beautiful, but it pales in comparison to the blade." Gendry took the sword and held the handle to Jon.

Jon felt the excitement he once did when he first drew Longclaw from its scabbard and his brothers of the watch chanting ' _sword, sword, sword!'_. Jon pulled the blade out of the scabbard and listened to the metal sing out as a pure black blade emerged. There was a moment of bewilderment before everyone around was in awe. In the fuller was a valyrian star par pattern, but the heart of the stars were like pure silver.

But as Jon held it in his fingers, there was something amidst his feelings that didn't feel right. A new sword that had yet to spill blood, Jon couldn't help but feel morose when he thought how many would die by this sword's blade.

Before Jon could express his gratitude, Gendry motioned for another one of his men forward who had another object wrapped in cloth. "And with the efforts of twelve smiths after teaching them how to work Valyrian steel, eight days of work, and trusting in a hunch, we made this." Gendry pulled the cloth off and revealed something no one would have dreamed of seeing in this day and age.

Dazzling in the light of the pit fire was a breastplate decorated specifically for Jon, and it was made entirely of Valyrian steel. There was a great many of inlays in the armor that bordered two direwolf heads facing inwards at the belly. Between the heads was a tail that was part of a three headed dragon, flying up. Above the center head at the color, the inlays formed the shape of the rising sun, crowning the dragon in the dawn.

Jon, and just about everyone, was at a loss for words. "This is… how… where did you get the steel?"

Gendry couldn't hide a smile that showed nothing but pride in his work. "When we were at the Wall after the battle, I heard about the giant scythe being destroyed by the White Walkers magic. I remembered that the only sword I was able to make successfully was from the steel of Rickon's broken sword which was also broken by their magic. I'm not sure of the details of how, but I had the idea that maybe you need steel touched by magic to make Valyrian Steel. Thanks to some secrecy from the Queen and Lord Tyrion, we got some dragonfire to light a forge and some blood to quench the material. I took a swing at it with my war hammer and… let's just say I have a better one in the works now."

Jon looked back at Daenerys and saw she looked very proud at Gendry's work. "I thought you could use a good surprise."

This was beyond a surprise. Valyrian Steel armor had greater value than the weapons did. The breastplate was worth a castle, a big one. "It looks amazing, Gendry."

"Thank Lord Tyrion for that, he gave us the design."

Jon looked over to Tyrion who was sitting with Ser Jaime and Ser Bronn. "I thought it would be grand if it displayed the victory of the War for the Dawn. As far as the direwolves , we all know that you should embrace your true heritage more, but as I once said to you, never forget what you are, surely the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor and it can never be used against you." For once, a metaphor could be taken literally.

"Gendry," Jon said, "I can't accept something so valuable as a gift. Do you know the worth of this?"

"More than a lot of gold, but it doesn't compare to what I already have that you've given me. A home, a name," he tilted his head to Arya, "a family."

Jon couldn't help but agree with Gendry in that matter. No amount of gold nor possessions or titles would ever match the worth of his family. He smiled at Gendry and embraced his new brother by law. "Thank you, brother."

There weren't many more after Gendry who presented gifts to Jon and Daenerys, but those that did tried their best to increase the value of what they gave with honeyed words. Regardless of the value or quality, Jon and Daenerys gave their gratitude and cherished the gifts. The last of the gift bearers were the Free Folk, all the leaders of the remaining fifteen clans and new Northern Houses stepped forward all together.

Representing them all was Siggorn Thenn. The Hall quieted down. "Lord Snow, King Jon, you were the second man of the Night's Watch to give more than a damn about us while we froze beyond the Wall and died at the hands of the Night King and the White Walkers. Most of us didn't follow you to leave Hardhome until it was too late, and we fought together to take back your home and win against our oldest and greatest enemy. We don't have any possessions worthy of giving to a King and Queen, but someone once reminded us that we're a part of your Kingdom now, we live by your laws, and your rules. We can never repay the debt we owe for freeing us from such a life of suffering and leading us to victory, but we can start."

Siggorn and the other clan leaders got down on one knee and bowed to Jon and Daenerys. Jon was probably the only one in the room who felt the gravity of what they were doing. The Free Folk never bent the knee to any King, until now.

Jon stood from his seat and was stunned. He gathered himself and addressed the Free Folk. "You came to us as Wildlings, as Free Folk. We've fought for thousands of years because of which side of the Wall we lived on when it was built. Let today mark an end to those fights, and rise as people of the North, our people."

Many banged their tables and cheered as the Free Folk rose as Northerners. Jon wasn't sure if he was meant to feel proud of them, but he did feel pride for their choice and an unyielding gratitude.

With all gifts given, the festivities went on and many began to dance around the giant pit fire. Alys and Siggorn earned a great many cheers throughout the hall when they both got so lost in their dance that they both leapt over the flames of the fire. It was daring and amazing.

Danys's size made her unable to join a dance with Jon, so she took to conversation while Jon had a dance with Sansa. He didn't know how to step and constantly fumbled his footing, nearly tripping over Sansa. She merely laughed every time he almost did.

"Jon," Sansa said, "it would help if you didn't always look down at your feet."

"Then how am I not supposed to step on you?" He didn't pay attention to his surroundings and bumped into Wyman Manderly, though it felt more like being hit by a boulder, and Jon crashed to the ground. Sansa started to laugh heavily and so did Wylla Manderly while Wyman started to apologize.

"Your grace, forgive me, I didn't see you!" Wyman helped Jon up to his feet.

"The fault is mine, dancing isn't my greatest of skills."

Wylla snorted. "Cleary, your grace." Her smiled died as she stepped closer to him and spoke quietly that her father would not hear. "Do you happen to know where Lady Brienne's squire is? I haven't seen him with her this evening."

"Podrick? I think he's with Lord Tyrion and Ser Bronn."

Wylla's eyes widened and she grew a happy smile. "Thank you, your grace." She turned back to her father. "I'm a bit tired from dancing, grandfather. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to go partake in some wine with friends."

"Oh, wonderful." Wyman said, "I could use a drink myself-"

"No! But… you have yet to dance with Wynafred, and it is her last day as your granddaughter before she is… made woman." There was an awkward silence between Wyman and his granddaughter

"Fair point. Go on then, and don't get too far into your cups." Wylla scurried away while Wyman searched for Wynafred.

"Come on," Sansa said, "let's try again and this time stop thinking so much and… pretend like your dueling me."

Jon rolled his eyes as he took Sansa's hands again. He humored himself and pictured that they were in duel. When she retreated back, Jon advanced where she stepped and they started to do what could be called dancing.

"Sansa smiled at him. "You see? You can do it." They started to move a bit faster and occasionally bushed past another pair. Jon caught of glimpse of Daenerys watching him and she seemed a little envious. Jon had never danced with her before, on fact his dance with Sansa was his first.

Part of the hall erupted in cheers and laughter and both Jon and Sansa looked over and saw that Arya and Gendry had taken to a drinking contest. Gendry had lost after spitting out the ale he just drank. Jon noticed that Arya's arm was reaching to Gendry in between his legs.

"Cheap move," Jon commented, "but effective." He noticed Sansa smiling, amused at them, but then he also noticed her smile die and a hint of somberness take over. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Sansa shook her head. "It's nothing."

"You look like you're brooding which means it's something." Jon lead Sansa from the floor to some vacant seats at one of the tables. He sat with her and looked Sansa square in the eye. "Tell me what's wrong."

"It's just…" she sighed out and gathered her thoughts. "It's a little jealousy is all."

"Jealousy?" Jon looked back at Arya and Gendry and the two of them were sharing a deep kiss after their competition. They were happy together, Arya especially despite her rejected feelings to being married. "I see. She never wanted what you always have and now she has it."

Sansa scoffed at him. "After two unwanted marriages, I've wondered if it's my fate to never find someone to love, but to be sold off again and again."

"Sansa, we promised you that would never happen again." Though Tyrion was a man of negotiation, compromise, and convincing words, he had no plans whatsoever for Sansa to be married off. She suffered more enough in King's Landing and more in the Hands of Littlefinger and the Bolton's. "If anyone tries, they'll have to get me and three dragons to get to you."

Sansa smiled a little, but she still had some doubt. "Thank you, Jon."

"Your grace," Edric Dayne said as he approached.

"Lord Edric, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was hoping to discuss the matter we previously did at the Dragonpit regarding Dorne's involvement in the war." Jon had completely forgotten about that. With the dead defeated, Edric was planning to return his armies back to Dorne to take no part in the fight against Cersei. "But like I said, I was hoping to, but then I realized that speaking of politics on a night like this would butcher the mood. So instead, might I steal Lady Sansa for a dance?"

Jon looked back to Sansa and she was wide eyed and caught off guard. "I, um, yes, I would love to."

Jon smiled as she took Edric's hand and the two of them joined the next dance. Sansa seemed to completely forget about her words with Jon and was absolutely radiant. Though dancing with someone who knew how probably helped.

While Jon decided to just observe the hall, Tyrion found him and took a seat next to him. "You know, I always had a vision of something like like when I was Hand of the King to Joffrey." Tyrion informed. "Of course it was a fantasy that was free of him and had someone else on the throne."

Jon chuckled to himself. "Yet here it is, with one last war to wage."

"Yes, and whoever wins this war will establish the most powerful dynasty in our history, one that could last a thousand years." Tyrion raised his tankard of ale. "Here's to a righteous victory."

Jon raised his own. "A victory for bastards and dwarfs." The clinked their tankards and each took deep drinks.

With the night drawing out and no bedding ceremony, the Wilding men picked up their wives and stole them from the longhouse to Winterfell, although Josera instead set Gwyn on his snowbear, Shadow, and led the two of them instead.

Jon and Daenerys had too decided to turn in for the night, feeling fatigued from the food and excitement. They changed out of their clothes into their evening attire. Many of their gifts were brought to their room, Daenerys had the ironwood cribs placed at the foot of their bed. She sat by them in a chair and was feeling her hands over the intricate designs carved into them while Jon was looking through some of the other gifts. He was drawn to the crown of Aegon the Conqueror and for some reason was becoming mesmerized with it, like he had a certain attachment to it.

The rubies in the front flickered in the light of the fire and had a certain glow to them, just like the ruby of Melissandre's necklace.

"You should try it on." Daenerys said. "You are Aegon Targaryen after all."

"Aye, but I'm not a conqueror." Jon set the crown down on the table. "That's not who I am."

Daenerys got up from the cribs and walked over to him and took the crown from the table. "You're right, you're not a conqueror. But you fought greater battles than most have, the ones that truly meant something. So what do think you are?" She lifted the crown and set it on Jon's head. He hardly felt it when it was placed their, it fit perfectly. "You're a hero, Jon, and no one can ever deny that you are. You've fought and died for the right thing. Now because of you, we have a get to live for it." She pulled him down to her and laid a light kiss on him. "Now come to bed, we have much to do tomorrow."

They both let rest take over, listening to only the sounds of the soft winter winds blowing through the window and the crackling of the logs in the fire. Daenerys laid on her side and both she and Jon had a hand over her belly. There was the constant feeling of a kick, reminding both of them that it wouldn't be long until the lives inside would be in their arms.

As the veil of sleep took over, Jon began to have strange sents lingire in his nose, and an abundance of noises filled his ears. He started to see things in ways he rarely did in his sleep, whenever he would warg into Ghost.

He was in the woods with Nymeria and three wolves from her pack, both of them were hunting for food, and they had found the trail of a fat boar. It was close, and getting lazy. The five wolves advanced swiftly through the snow, their movements silent as could be.

The boar was in sight, and a hunger for blood filled Ghost. The three wolves of Nymeria's pack went to flank it while Nymeria would attack straight on. Ghost would intercept the prey if it managed to get away from the attackers.

Nymeria and her wolves move in fast and took the boar by surprise, one of the wolves managed to bite it at the neck. It squealed out and slammed another wolfe in with its head and broke free. Ghost began to run as fast as he could, baring his teeth and ready to sink them into the plump meat. As soon as the boar came close, Ghost lunged forward and tackled the boar down. He bit down hard on the boar's head and twist it, breaking the preys neck and killing it instantly. The kill was his, and so was the first bite. Ghost tore into ribs and ate the blood soaked flesh, relishing every bit of it. The other wolves had begun to partake of the meat as well, sharing in the delicious taste of the animal.

Ghost had his fill and let his sister and the others finish it off. He wandered to a small clearing while licking his lips clean of the blood staining the fur around his mouth. From there, the sky was in full view and Lyarras could be seen flying. Ghost could hear her screech and felt the pain in her voice. She missed Ygris, she wanted to fly with her sister. It made Ghost remember his brothers and sister. All of them were gone except for Nymeria, and all of them had died alone.

Nymeria had trotted over to Ghost and sat down next to him. She nudged Ghost with her head, trying to get him to stop feeling sad. She missed them too, but she was strong and didn't show her sadness.

A new scent appeared, one that stunk of sweat. There was a pack of animals nearby, big animals. There were sounds of running starting to appear, no, not running, galloping. There was a herd of horses riding hard. There were going to the big stone house that the masters were in. There were more scents, scents of men, men like the ones that smelled of sand and the sun. all the horses had riders, and they were getting close enough to count. There were twenty horses, but twenty three riders. Only when the scent of three children became distinct did it make sense.

If they were going to the stone house, then they might attack the masters. Ghost howled out to the night and Nymeria had joined him, calling out to the wolves of Nymeria's pack to go back to the fields of men and horses around the stone house.

Jon blinked himself awake when he heard the sounds of howling echoed from the window. He sat up when he realized his dream was no dream, but what Ghost was doing right now.

He shuffled out of bed immediately, not realizing he woke up Daenerys.

"Jon? What's the matter?"

"Riders approaching the castle. And they have children with them."

"Riders? What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure. I'll go see what it is. But just in case, wait here." Jon put on his boots and his cloak and made for the door, but stopped and looked over to his new sword leaning against his nightstand. He walked over and took it, strapping the belt around before leaving. Standing guard outside the door was Ser Lorimuss and Qhono. "Ser Lorimuss, go wake Ser Will and both of you meet me in the courtyard. Qhono,  _ezat Ser Jorah akka vijazerat jin khalessi_." His Dothraki wasn't the best, but good enough for Qhono to understand.

It didn't take long for Ser Will and Ser Lorimuss to meet with Jon in the courtyard along with fifty of the house guard. By the time they were gathered, a group of riders had been spotted riding to Winterfell. Jon wasn't sure what to make of them, but he wasn't taking any chances in case this was a ploy by Cersei to get into the castle. He was still uneasy of Rickon's vision and his telling of the next war starting. There was no word of any kind of attack from the south, but no one was sure what to look for.

"I want twenty men with crossbows at the ready at the gate, now." Jon commanded.

One of the men acting as a lookout called down. "The riders almost at the gates!"

Jon and his Kingsguard walked up to the battlements and looked over and saw the riders approaching the gate. The archers had crossbows in hand, loaded and waiting.

A lone rider advanced ahead of the others and halted when he came to the closed gates and called out. "My name is Ser Raymen Teller, captain of the guard of Starfall. I need to speak with Lord Edric Dayne immediately!"

Jon looked at the other riders and saw that only ten of them were armed, the rest looked like servants. "Dismount first, and you shall be permitted inside the castle." The riders immediately got off their horses and gathered at the gate. Jon leaned over to one of the guards. Go wake Edric Dayne from his chambers and bring him here as fast as you can."

"Yes, your grace." The guard ran off as Jon made his way back to the courtyard, keeping one hand one his sword.

"Open the gates!" Jon ordered. By the time the gates opened and Ser Reymon and his company entered, Jon stood before them and his entire guard was at the ready to defend themselves. "Forgive the precautions, Ser Raymen, but you can understand that riders in the night from the south is a little suspicious, especially just after a war has been won. Lord Edric will be here shortly."

Before Ser Raymen could reply, the sound of a baby crying echoed in the courtyard. Ser raymen looked back to one of his company, a woman. She had a babe in her arms and beside her were two children.

"Please, my lord." Ser Raymen said to Jon, "we've been riding for days without rest and never experienced such a cold."

Jon looked at the children and saw them looking sad and miserable. A little girl and a young boy. "Of course, if you hand over your arms, we shall provide proper cloaks for you all." Ser Raymen and the other armed men didn't hesitate to remove their sword belts and hand them over the Winterfell guard. Some of the men rushed to get what was promised and returned shortly, along with Edric Dayne.

"Ser Raymen," Edric said, "What are doing-"

"Papa!" the little girl and boy rushed forward to Edric, looking both happy and sad to see him.

Edric on the other hand was in complete shock. "Ashara? Gerold? Seven hells!" he rushed forward and fell to his knees to embrace his children who were now crying. "It's alright, my loves, I'm right here. Arthur, where's Arthur?"

The woman with the babe in her arms stepped forward, the babe had stopped crying by now. "He's here, milord." the woman replied.

Edric stood up with his arms around his two children while they clinged to his clothes. He approached the woman and looked down at the babe, relieved. He looked back to Ser Raymen. "Raymen, what's going on? What are you all doing here… and where's Neela?"

"My lord," Ser Raymen said, "Starfall was attacked by Essosi sellswords, four mercenary companies. We had no chance of defending the castle against them and had to flee. The last we saw of the castle, it was in lost one of our ships on the way and forty of the household."

"Neela," Edric demanded, "was Neela on that ship?"

"No my lord, she… she was in the orchard with some of the women when we were attacked. She was brought to the gates and ordered us to retreat. They killed the other women, but I heard the leaders say that Lady Neela was to be kept a hostage to Queen Cersei."

"False Queen," Edric said, anger present in his voice. "No real queen would break a truce and attack a defenseless household." Edric turned to face Jon. "Your grace, about my decision to stay out of the war, I've had a sudden change of heart. The Dornish armies will gladly ride with you and destroy any army Cersei Lannister has."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter shall be written as soon as I can do it. Also, I welcome any ideas for a name for the new sword, but What I am looking for is something with meaning in it. Now SHOW ME THE MONEY!
> 
> Sword-https://www.deviantart.com/multirandomness21/art/Sword-of-the-Winter-Dragon-757060236  
> Armor-https://www.deviantart.com/multirandomness21/art/Valyrian-Steel-Armor-757058727


	78. Edric II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, this chapter was such pain to write, but thanks to MSquared79, it was made amazing! Hope you enjoy

Edric

The days that followed the morning of unexpected arrivals were a busy ones. Though word was already spreading of the attack on Starfall, there were many from Dorne demanding to know what other destruction has befallen their country, and all of them were on the edge of a rage that could level mountains.

Edric had his household servants settle in the castle with his men, save for Ser Raymen, who joined with the Dornish forces in the camps. Unfortunately, three of those that arrived in the night had gotten sick on the road and died before sunrise. And the children, they had been so worn out from the hard riding that they slept for an entire day before they were up an about and ate just about as much food as Wyman Manderly did at the feast. The Queen was gracious enough to spare one of the ironwood cribs for Arthur. He had been such a fuss without his mother around and he hardly ever ate from his appointed wet nurse. Ashara was a blessed soul and always stayed with Gerold. She wanted to keep her brother safe from the bad people that took away their mother.

To Edric’s personal shame, he rarely had anytime for his own children since he was busy trying to keep the other Dornish lords under control, many of them demanded that the Lannister forces should be butchered and wiped out for their Queen’s treachery. But even with Edric reminding them that it was mercenaries that attacked, not them, there was still displeasure among many of them. And thanks to Varys the Spider, Edric learned of whispers that some of the Dornish Lords were considering following someone who would take action of vengeance and were attempting to rally others to join them.

Things were growing out of control, so much that Edric was losing his grip over it. There were so few who could give their support, and all of them were from Edric’s household. The King had more on his plate than Edric did, and there weren’t many outside of Edric’s rule that he trusted. Ser Raymen was his most trusted out of all, a knight and advisor to Edric’s father before him, but even Edric had his suspicions that there could be Lannister loyalists among the armies and had him keep watch over his children.

Outside his household, Edric had a great deal of trust in the Starks and the Targaryens, and Lady Sansa was gracious enough to help him deal with the anger that the Dornish were feeling. The two of them had taken to the Great Hall of Winterfell to meet with three of the more powerful Dornish rulers: Valian Uller, newly appointed Lady of House Uller after her grandfather, Harmen, and father, Rohar, perished at the Wall; Lord Dagos of House Manwoody, and Jynessa of House Blackmont.

“My ladies, my lord,” Edric spoke, “please calm down.”

“Calm?” Lady Jynessa scoffed, “It amazes me that you would be so passive after the Lannisters destroy your ancestral home.”

“Lannister,” Edric corrected, “only one is against us and those sworn to the name are all here, with the other armies, and had nothing to do with the attack.”

“That’s beside the point!” Lord Dagos exclaimed. “We knew those sellsword bastards where at Hellgate before they moved to attack. Our homes lie in the path to Starfall, who’s to say that they weren’t attacked and our people slaughtered!?!”

Sansa spoke up. “My lord, the raven from Lord Varys’s spies will be arriving anytime now. We cannot know for sure that what you say can be true.”

“And if our suspicions are corrected? If Dorne is nothing more than a blood soaked desert of burning castles?”

“What would you have me do?” Edric demanded. “We’re thousands of miles away from the ones that attacked our country and have only what you speak of, suspicions.”

Lady Valian said. “Regardless if our lands have been attacked or not, we must avenge the destruction of Starfall. We should send that Lannister bitch tenfold the dead you suffered and more if she continues to be a thorn in our sides.”

The Dornish were acting on blind vengeance, not caring for reason or honor. Though Edric knew that to them, it wasn’t vengeance for his people, it was for their pride as the people of Dorne. They saw themselves higher than most, and something like this was humiliating for them.

“You would slaughter men innocent of murder others did?”

“My ladies, my lord,” Sansa said, “my brother put to the sword Rickard Karstark. His sons were killed by Ser Jaime and Lord Karstark killed his cousins Willem and Martyn Lannister to repay the debt. Against honor, against orders, and my brother executed him for his crimes.”

Lady Jynessa had a ghost of smirk at the corners of her lips. “And how well did that work out for your brother, the King in the North? He lost half his army and lost the war all because he couldn’t keep his desires in his pants.”

Sansa managed to keep herself calm, but Edric clenched his fists on the table. “You dare insult the family that houses us in their own halls!?!”

Sansa lightly place her hand over Edric’s fist but kept her gaze at Lady Jynessa. “The men of the Westerlands are under the protection of House Stark and will remain that way. If you take any action against them, then you will be charged with treason and met with the vengeance that you demand, tenfold what you deliver.”

“They serve Cersei!”

“They are bound to Ser Jaime,” Sansa reminded, “and he has pledged his sword and allegiance to House Targaryen.” Though there were some like Lady Brienne, Lord Tyrion, and even the King who had their trust in Ser Jaime’s word, Edric did not completely. But he trusted the King’s decision and would defend it.

Lady Valian look more angry than anyone at the mention of Ser Jaime. “You would put trust in an Oathbreaker, in the man who murdered Elliara Sand?”

“He didn’t murder Elliara, Valian.” Edric said with a firm tone. “She was tortured inhumanely and Ser Jaime gave her mercy. If anything, you are in debt to him for such.”

“Ha, that’ll be a debt the Lannisters never get payed.”

“As far as I have seen, the ‘Oathbreaker’ has been keeping true to his word of loyalty more than you and the other Dornish have in one morning. The ‘Oathbreaker’ has done more for us in the past year than Dorne has done for anyone in the past decade. He attempted to take his sister’s life before he was forced to flee and pledged fealty to the King and Queen. By right of oath and honor, his men are bound to him now and they are bound to House Targaryen.” There was a pregnant silence between everyone for Sansa’s words to sink in. “Need I remind you all, as lord Edric has said, that we are thousands of miles away from the ones who committed the atrocities we discuss. If Cersei learns of what we do to her army here based on blind accusations against the innocent, what’s to stop her from making your suspicions the truth?”

Sansa had an excellent point. The things they were all discussing were in fact based on suspicions. If they took action before they knew the truth, the consequences would be worse than what they could be.

Lord Dagos sat back in his chair and looked at Edric. “Then what would you have us do? Nothing, like Prince Doran?”

Edric was started to get tired of having to answer everyone’s questions. He had his own, but he wasn’t sure who was the right person to ask for the answers. His wife was in King’s Landing, probably stuck in a Black Cell beneath the Red Keep. At least, that was the best he could hope for that felt reasonable. If someone had the Mad Queen in check, then Edric might feel a little relieved. But the only people who had any true influence over Cersei were dead. Whatever trusts or connections Cersei had with Lord Jaime were probably severed when he tried to kill her before he fled.

“We’ll finish this tonight. And should I hear of any attacks on the crown’s army, I will make it an obligation to take the head of whoever gave the order myself. And as we are in the North, I shall be the one to do it. As they say here, the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.”

Edric stood up with Sansa and waited for the Dornish to leave the Great hall. Once they were gone, he turned to face her. “I’m sorry you had to hear such an insult like that.”

Sansa finally started to show signs of contained rage. “Believe me, if I can have a good excuse, I’ll have her torn to pieces by the wolves.” The way she spoke showed no hint of exaggeration or sarcasm. She meant what she said. 

This was the first Edric had ever seen of Sansa that intimidated him of her. For a brief moment, he didn’t see her as a Stark, but someone that reminded him of Cersei. “As much as I can sympathise with your anger, I would not let that happen. If Lady Jynessa gives me reason to, I’ll see to she dies, but not mutilated.”

Sansa shook her head. “Forgive me, you’re right. That was rash to say. Gods, I feel like I’m turning into Cersei.”

“After what I’ve seen and know about her, you’re one of the furthest people from her. And rest assured, I won’t let Jynessa’s dishonor to your brother’s memory go unpunished.”

Edric turned his head when he heard footsteps approaching them and saw one of the Kingsguard, Ser Lorimuss Mudd. “My lord, my lady, the King and Queen request your audience.”

Instead of going to the King and Queen’s room, Edric and Sansa were brought to the Lord’s Chambers. Ser Lorimuss joined one of the Queen’s Dothraki and stood guard at the door. The knight opened it for them and they walked in to find the Queen sitting at the desk in the room with King standing behind her. Lord Tyrion and Varys sat in chairs across from the desk next to a vacant ones meant for Edric and Sansa. Lying down on the stone floor near the hearth was the King’s direwolf, Ghost.

“Lord Edric, Lady Sansa” the Queen said, “thank you for coming on such short notice.” She gestured her hand for them to sit down.

“Of course, your grace.” Edric sat down with Sansa and noticed that everyone was looking distraught.

Varys spoke up. “Lord Edric, we received the report on Dorne and another from King’s Landing. However, given the current mood of the Dornish, we thought it best to unveil it to you first.”

Edric almost chuckled. “No argument there.”

“As far as we been told, the only places in Dorne that have received attack are Starfall, the Water Gardens, and Sunspear. The city managed to withstand the attacks of the sellswords, but a group of them infiltrated the city and captured the remaining daughters of Oberyn Martell.”

It wasn’t much to take in, but the news felt overwhelming. Sunspear persevered, but at a terrible cost. Oberyn’s bastards were the last of the Martell bloodline, and now only Tyene was truly safe from Cersei. At least Edric would be able to relieve the Lord Dagos and Ladies Jynessa and Valian that their homes are safe.

“And the report from King’s Landing?”

“The report confirmed the captivity of your wife, the Martell bastards, and one other, a girl from the Reach who could not be identified. Unfortunately, given the difficulty of getting messages in and out of the capitol, we’ve only just learned that they were transported to an unknown location weeks ago. As of now, the hostages are not in King’s Landing, but that is the only knowledge we have of their whereabouts. But I can assure you that I have as many of my birds as I can spare on the lookout for any sign of them.”

Though it was meant to be reassuring, Edric couldn’t feel it. It was bad enough that Neela was taken to King’s Landing in the state it is, but now she was nowhere to be found. “When do you plan to make this known to the other lords?”

Jon said. “We’ll call for a meeting in the longhouse at midday. However we’ve been hearing about the tensions rising in the Dornish forces.”

“Believe me, hearing about it pales to actually seeing it.”

The Queen cleared her throat. “Nothing has happened that we know of, but we suspect that there will be violent measures taken against Cersei’s forces here.”

Sansa said. “It was hard enough trying to sway two ladies and a lord from attacking innocent soldiers because of suspicion. The only things that kept them back were the very threats they made against the Lannister soldiers. Not the most civil way to end the discussion, but it’s the best we can get to intimidating for peace.”

“Regardless if they are intimidated or not,” Tyrion replied, “we need to take measures so that a battle within an army doesn’t happen.”

“Agreed,” Daenerys said, “how many Dornish soldiers are there?”

Edric replied. “We number six thousand, but without my men the other lords only have around two thousand.” Edric was one of the few who didn’t give support to Elliara when she first allied with the Targaryens. Because of her choice and Tyrion Lannister’s planning, twelve thousand Dornish were killed battling Euron Greyjoy at sea. Even after that massacre, it was surprising that there were those just as rash and foolish willing to go right into a battle. But Edric had a great loyalty from his men, and there were some of the other Dornish rulers who stay their hands at his word. 

“Then have your men stand by in case something should happen. The Dothraki Horde is acting as a barrier separating the armies, so any…” Daenerys’s face tensed a little before she pressed on. “Any who wish to fight will have to get through them.” She cleared her throat. “ That will be all for now Lord Edric. Qhono!” the Dothraki standing vigil outside the door entered. “Qafat fichat Missandei tat anna.”

“Sek, Khaleesi.” Qhono left the room and was shortly followed by Tyrion and Sansa. Varys stayed seated. He must have more business with the King and Queen.

Edric’s thoughts turned to thinking of Neela. He started wondering why she was even taken in the first place. Was it because of his open enthusiasm and liking to the Targaryen’s at the dragonpit or because he was Acting Lord Paramount of Dorne? Whatever the reason, he wished he could fix it. He never wanted her to suffer such a fate.

In the hallway, there was a sudden yelp that sounded like Sansa. When Edric entered the hallway, he saw Sansa standing still in the hallway looking directly at him, seemingly embarrassed. Lord Tyrion was looking back while he walked away, smirking the whole time.

“Are you alright, my lady?” Edric asked.

“Lord Dayne,” she said “I think I found something of yours.” She cocked her head back, gesturing that there was something, or rather someone, behind her. As if on cue, two small heads of black hair peeked out from behind Sansa on the opposite sides of her body, behind her dress but under her cloak. As soon as they saw their father, the children darted back behind Sansa and she seemed to flinch when they did. “And they both have a firm grip somewhere they shouldn’t.” she sounded a little agitated.

Edric got down to one knee. “Ashara, Gerold, please let go of the nice woman and come over here right now.” The two heads poked out from behind Sansa and they slowly started to walk out. Gerold followed behind Ashara as if she were a shield for him. Edric sighed. “You two, still as mischievous here as you were in Starfall.”

“Papa,” Ashara said, “how come we have to stay here? We want to go home.”

Edric wasn’t sure how to explain that Starfall was destroyed in a way that was simple for them. “Well… we can’t go back yet because some men broke it. So we have to wait until it gets fixed.”

“How long will that be?” Ashara asked as she and Gerold finally got into arms reach of Edric.  
To be honest, he had no idea. “Not for a while, I’m afraid.” Edric’s eyes drifted up to Sansa. “Ashara, Gerold, do you know who that is?” Both of them looked at Sansa and then back to him and shook their heads. “This is Sansa Stark. She lives here in this castle and is letting us stay with her. Now turn around and apologize and say something nice about her.” He patted his children on their backs when they turned around to face Sansa.

“We’re sorry.” Ashara said.

“We sowy.” Gerold said 

Sansa smiled down to the two of them. “I forgive you both.”

Gerold pointed up to Sansa. “Hair pretty.”

Ashara on the other hand, gave a compliment most wouldn’t like to hear said aloud in front of others. “Your bottom is very soft.”

Edric nearly choked on his breath when she said that. “Not something like that Ashara.” Edric groaned. She was still too young to understand what things should and shouldn’t be said.

“But it felt like a lemon ca-” Edric pulled her back and placed a hand over her mouth to keep her from embarrassing him and Sansa more than she already was.

“I’m very sorry, Lady Sansa.” He felt just as embarrassed as she was probably feeling.

Sansa was flushed red in the face and trying her best to keep her formal composure. “They’re only children.”

Edric nervously smiled at Sansa before turning his attention to Ashara. “Listen, there are certain things you shouldn’t say just like there are certain things you shouldn’t do. Remember when you got punished for running around the castle naked?”

Ashara pouted. “I got no sweets for a month.”

“And what did your mother tell you when you asked why?”

“Because you should keep your body private until you’re married.”

“That’s right, and that means you should keep other people’s bodies private too.”

Ashara was never one to like lectures, but then again who did? She looked up at her father’s face. “Papa, when will mama get here?” 

Edric had absolutely no idea how to respond to her, how to tell them that Neela was a hostage to the most vile woman alive in Westeros. “She... uh…”

“There you two are!” Ser Raymen said as he came around the corner. “How you got past the maid is beyond me. Forgive me for the… escape, my lord. I’ll see that they return to their room.”

“No!” Ashara shouted and held tightly onto Edric’s doublet. “We don’t want to go back! We want to see the dragons!”

“Dwagins!” Gerold repeated.

“Ashara, Gerold, right now is probably the worst time to see the dragons because they are very aggravated.” His children looked at him confused. Of course they wouldn’t know what aggravated meant. “The dragons are upset and anyone who gets close might get hurt or worse.”

Both of them looked disappointed. They had only caught glimpses of the dragons from the window of their room, but seeing them up close was an entirely different experience.

Seeing them like that only made Edric think of how they would react when he would have to tell them about Neela. He had a heavy weight tugging down on his heart. Ashara and Gerold have been asking for their mother ever since they first arrived. They heard what happened to her, but they didn’t understand things like hostage and captured. Telling them in a way they would understand would not only sadden them, but scare them. But before he could do that, he had to know one thing first.

“Lady Sansa,” Edric said just before she was to leave, “might I have a word?”

“Of course, my lord.”

Edric felt a tug on his cloak. “Can we come with you, papa?” Ashara asked.

“It’s just going to be a boring talk with me and the King. Go back to your room with Ser Raymen.” Edric expected her to get mad and through a fit, but instead she looked sad, heartbroken even.

“But you never come to see us until bedtime.”

Seven hells, had he been so occupied that he failed to make time for his children, to be a father. Damn lorships and the things it robbed from him.

“Lord Edric,” Sansa spoke, “I have an idea that might work for all of it. It will get their attention for long enough and provide someone to watch over them at the same time.”

 

An offer like that, even not knowing what it was, was too good to say no. Edric looked at his children. Gerold looked excited, but Ashara still had a glum look. “I only have a few more things to do, and then I promise you that we can spend some time together today. Maybe I can even convince the king to let you see the dragons when they calm down.”

That was more than enough to make Ashara’s eyes widen and she gave Edric a tight hug around his neck. “Thank you, papa! We’ll be extra good, promise!” It was good to see Ashara happy, but now Edric had to get the King and Queen to let her see the dragons. If he failed, maybe she would settle for the eggs.

Edric looked back at Sansa. “Who did you have in mind?”

Sansa smirked at him and walked back to the Lord’s chambers.

“Ser Raymen,” Edric said, “would you inform the major houses of Dorne that there will be a meeting this afternoon? Also...” Edric leaned in closely to whisper, “inform my lieutenants to order our men arm themselves.” He didn’t want to take any chances with an outbreak of fighting in the camps.

“At once, my lord.” Ser Raymen left hastily the way he came and Edric made his way back to to Sansa who entered the room.

“Sansa,” Jon said, “is there something else you need?”

“No,” she replied, “I’m stealing someone from you.” Sansa walked past them and entered the room.

Edric peered inside and watched as Sansa brought the children before the Queen. “Pardon the intrusion, your grace.” Sansa said.

“Who are these two?” Daenerys asked.

“Your grace, this is Ashara and Gerold of House Dayne.” The children had their eyes fixed on Daenerys as Sansa knelt down to them. “This is Queen Daenerys Targaryen.” As soon as Ashara heard who Daenerys was, she did her best attempt at a curtsey. “Do either of you know what a direwolf is?”

They both shook their heads and Sansa pointed over to Ghost who they didn’t see yet. Ashara gasped while Gerold got frightened and hid behind Sansa’s cloak.

“Can we pet him?” Ashara boldly asked.

“You can, he’s very tame.”

Ashara slowly walked up to Ghost who lifted his head off the floor and looked right at her. She reached her hand out and placed it on his head and started to lightly stroke his mane. “He’s so fluffy!” She squealed out excitedly.

“Ghost, with me.” Sansa said. She came out of the room followed by Ghost and Ashara was trailing behind the large white direwolf in awe while Gerold clinged to Sansa, still afraid of him.

Jon scoffed as they passed him. “Traitor.” He muttered as Ghost padded by.

Edric thought as he followed after them and caught up with Sansa. He followed her outside to the courtyard and it was far less busy than when everyone was preparing to fight the dead and a much less crowded one.

Sansa brought the children to an open area unpolluted by people. “You two have this whole area to play in with Ghost. Just make you don’t get too rough with him.” Gerold clung tighter to her dress. She knelt down and smiled at him. “It’s alright, he won’t hurt you.”

“Scary.” Gerold replied.

“He does look scary, doesn’t he?” Neither of them noticed when Ghost approached them. Gerold gasped and hid his face in Sansa’s cloak. “If you are kind to him then he’ll be kind to you.” Gerold peeked out and looked at the big red eyes staring at him. “He’s very gentle and won’t bark at you, I promise.” Gerold grabbed onto Sansa’s hand while slowly reaching his own hand out to Ghost. Before he could touch him, Ghost licked Gerold’s fingers and and Gerold started to giggle.

“He tickles!”

Sansa smiled as Gerold let go of her hand and started to pet Ghost.

“Come on Gerold!” Ashara called. “Let’s build a snow castle!” Gerold rushed off with Ghost to Ashara.

Sansa stood up and watched with Edric as they all ran off together. She had a kind heart, which made Edric glad to have a friend like her. “You’ll make a good mother one day.” He told her.

Sansa shook her head. “After three betrothals and two marriages, all of them unwanted, I‘ve given up on that.”

He could not think how to proceed after that.

It was Sansa who saved him the embarrassing silence. “How are you faring?”

“I can’t answer that yet. I wish I had a few years more experience in such a position. My wife is out there somewhere, a prisoner and at the mercy of gods know who and my children haven't a clue about her.” Edric thought saying it aloud would relieve the weight he felt, but it didn’t. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.” He felt like he had a thousand thoughts rushing through his mind and he couldn’t find the one he needed.

“So find what you can do instead. Knowing that might give you the answer you seek.”

“There’s a great many things I could do. I could march my army right now, I could offer to betray you all.” He was exaggerating obviously and she knew that. “It’s the thing I need to do that escapes me. And right now I’m worried that any move I make by purpose or accident will be the wrong one.” Edric leaned onto the balcony railing and looked down at his children playing in the snow with Ghost. They were happy, very happy, and Edric didn’t want them to lose that, he didn’t want to lose them. But right now he was losing sight on how to protect them when the time comes.

“When I saw Cersei at the Dragonpit, I knew just from looking that she was more dangerous than I’ve ever known. And without her father or Lord Jaime to hold her back, there’s no telling what she might do.” That just made things worse. A person with such power and unpredictability was as dangerous as the Mad King. “But given how’s she’s acted recently, I think I notice a pattern.”

“A pattern?” Edric asked and he stood back up and looked at her.

“Everytime we make a move, every time she makes one, they all end with her being deceitful. The Queen took Casterly Rock before uniting with us, but Cersei planned on it and used that chance to destroy her remaining fleet. Cersei pledge the Westeros armies she commanded to us and kept the Golden Company in King’s Landing, but hired even more sellswords to attack the lands emptied of soldiers. She obviously lies and can’t be trusted, it’s just her actions that make her unpredictable. As far as we know, she has hostages from Dorne and the Reach, but what if they are more than that?”

“I’m not sure that I follow. What else could they be than hostages? All of them are of value to someone great enough to go to war over.”

“So start at the beginning. Why do you think your wife was taken rather than killed?”

“She is the Lady of House Dayne. There could be a number of reasons.”

“Such as?”

“Neela could be a hostage so that Dorne won’t fight but… I was going to declare Dorne neutral in the fight against her at first.” If that were the case, it would only raise more questions. “There’s too many things it could be.”

“Then what’s the worst reason?”

“The worst?”

“I learned that sometimes we should try asking of the worst possible reason someone would do something and see how reasonable it is. So what is the worst possible reason your wife was taken?”

At first Edric thought the worst reason could be execution, but it didn’t make sense to do that. To take her as hostage might be to keep him from fighting. “If she’s a hostage, she could be threatened with death if I fight Cersei.” No, after hearing what Sansa described about Cersei’s unpredictability, there had to be more than that. “Or she could threaten her with death unless I turn against you.”

“If Cersei were to wrap her control over some of the leaders here, it would be the Red Wedding all over again.”

Sansa was right. If the Westerland Lords kept their loyalty to Cersei rather than Lord Jaime, then that would be fifteen thousand enemy soldiers at the doorstep to everyone else. And there was still the matter of the girl from the Reach. Whoever she was could factor a great number of soldiers added. Melissa Tarly had eighteen thousand, but the rest of the lords combined had twelve thousand. Threaten the right one and that would still be a great deal.

However, even if an attack within the armies happened, it wouldn’t be one that they could win. But it would weaken them enough to rival all of the sellswords at Cersei’s command, giving her the advantage she needs to win the war to come.

A bell began to ring and caught Edric and Sansa’s attention. It was coming from the gates. “Wagon approaching!” the gatekeeper called. After a moment he shouted again. “Find the King and open the gates!”

“What do you think is going on?” Edric asked.

“I’m not sure.” Sansa replied.

Edric hurried from the balcony and passed his children. “Ashara, Gerold, stay with Lady Sansa.” He didn’t wait for confirmation, but his tone has firm enough that he didn’t need to. On his way, Edric accidentally walked into a man carrying some kegs.

“Ah! Watch where you’re going!” The man looked absolutely filthy. If he wore salt stained clothes, he would’ve been thought to be Ironborn. He spilled some of the contents of the kegs on to his gloves and quickly wiped them clean, but he left bright green stains on his breeches.

“Apologies.” Edric turned his attention back to the gates as a crowd of curious people began to form around to see what was happening.

The gates opened and a crying man driving a wagon entered. When his horse was stopped by one of the guards, he panicked. “Please! Don’t hurt me! I’m just a messenger!” Getting off his cart, he practically fell from it and got to his knees. “They said they’d kill my family if I didn’t bring them here! I’m sorry!”

“Calm down!” one of the guards next to him said. “Bring what here?”

“The cargo… they… oh seven hells they killed the children right in front of me!” One of the other guards went to see what the cargo was as a large crowd began to form around the area. The guard opened the back of the wagon and gasped and covered his mouth in disgust.

The guard with the driver looked at the one at the wagon. “What is it?” he called.

“Bodies, wrapped up in wool.”

The guard looked down at the driver. “What’s the meaning of this?”

The driver, eyes and face red from sorrow barely got his words through. “The b-bodies are one part, the Queen’s words are the other.”

By now the King found his was to the front. “What’s going on here?”

The guard at the back of the cart replied while he and one other began to bring the bodies out of the wagon. “He said he’s a messenger. The dead are one part, Cersei’s words the other.” He and the other guard laid the first body down gently on the snow covered ground and went to get another. The body itself was the size of a child, and the driver did say children, so how many more were to follow?

The King approached the driver and stood over him. “What is Cersei’s message?”

The driver looked up, full of fear. “T-to the dragonwhore and the bastard of Winterfell, I congratulate you on your victory against the dead. Now that the Country is saved, it is up to you to decide whether you shall have peace, or destroy what remains. Surrender the armies you stole from me, surrender my treacherous brothers, and you may have the savage land of the North. Do not give me what I demand and more of what I give shall be delivered. Those are my terms. If you dare think to keep what you took from me, a Lannister always their debts.”

By then the last of the bodies had been emptied from the wagon and laid next to the rest. There were six total. The King approached one of the larger sized ones and pulled away the wool that covered the head to reveal a piece of decorated cloth resting over the victims face. He pulled it off and beheld a young girl no older than seventeen, her face blank and throat slit. The King grimaced when he saw the girl like that, but then looked at the cloth with concern. He muttered a word, quiet but just loud enough that it could be made out. “Tarly.” He looked over to one of the other bodies, one of the small one and pulled the wool covering off and saw another piece of cloth over the victims face. “Martell.”

When Edric heard Martell, he took a closer look at the cloth on another just revealed and saw that it too had the sigil of House Martell. Could the cloths over the faces be some indication of their identities? Edric had no time to think about it when every sense in his body froze after he heard the King say another name.

“Dayne.”

Through the corner of his eye, Edric could see that the last body unloaded was reveal, but a purple cloth covered the face. He could also see locks of auburn hair, her hair. The King pulled the cloth away and against every part of his all, Edric saw Neela lying there with her throat slit like the others. He couldn’t hear himself as he ran over to her body, but he could feel the pain of a scream in his heart leaving his mouth. His soul became completely torn apart as he fell to his knees at Neela’s body.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, she wasn’t supposed to die. No matter how much Edric screamed inside of himself that this wasn’t true, but a trick, the body he cradled in his arms said differently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like they said, unpredictable


	79. Bran II & Meera II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of the story was one of the hardest to write. Hopefully, the last two months will have paid off. Enjoy

Bran

  
  


Hours, days, weeks, months, time seemed to have no meaning in the moments they were being spent with Winter Lily in the Cave of the Three-Eyed Raven. There were no indications that time had passed at all and yet it felt like a lifetime was being spent. Whether it was the light of the sun or the moon, the light from outside never faded or dispersed.

But all of that was so minuscule to Bran. Compared to being in a cave with another three-eyed raven and the part of himself he left behind nearly two years, everything else seemed pointless.

This other version of himself was who he was once before. He was younger, but there were not many differences in appearance to tell either Bran apart from the other. This version, this Brandon Stark wasn’t the Three-Eyed Raven. This was who they were before they were touched by the Night King and before he was shown everything.

The Bran that was lost could still feel his emotions. To the Three-Eyed Raven form of Bran, this was both nothing and everything to him that was truly magical and mysterious. He hasn’t cared for feeling anything ever since he left the cave, but deep down he has felt the pull to find these feelings again, a pull to find who he once was.

Winter Lily stood between the two of them. “Do you see why you cannot leave now?”

“Yes.” They both replied in unison.

Winter Lily looked dumbfounded. “This will be difficult addressing each of you.”

“No, it won’t.” The Younger Bran said. “I have an idea.” He closed his eyes and after a few seconds opened them, revealing the white color of a warg’s eyes. His body changed instantaneously and now a dire wolf stood where he once did, but not just any dire wolf.

“You became Summer,” Bran said.

_ ‘You can address me as such, Bran.’  _ Summer’s voice spoke through the mind.

It didn’t seem very fair to Bran to be the one who gets to keep the name. He wasn’t Brandon Stark anymore, he hasn’t been for a long time. But hopefully, he would be soon. He looked to Winter Lily. “What is this?”

“The Bran who you were and the Bran who you are now are two sides of a coin. At one point, you were the side that was Brandon Stark, but that night when the dead came, that coin flipped to its other side, the side of the Three-Eyed Raven, and became too heavy to turn back. But now, if you ever wish to wake up, you need to stand the coin up on its edge so that both faces can show.”

It made sense and at the same time, it didn’t. Both Bran and Summer understood what she meant, but not how. They were both separate beings from the other, two different people of the same person. How were they supposed to become of one body and one mind?

Winter Lily scoffed at the two of them. “You each have something the other needs, so you must learn to share.”

_ ‘I am perfectly ready to share what I must,’  _ said Summer, _ ‘but it isn’t something you simply just hand out on a platter like horns of ale.’ _

“He’s right,” Bran told Winter Lily, “I’ve felt some things, but I don’t know what spurned them. And I don’t know what it is I must share with him.”

“Enough,” Winter Lily almost shouted, “you ask twenty questions before I can give one answer.” Both Brans, or rather Bran and Summer, calmed down and silenced. Winter Lily had a great deal of stress about her. She turned to Bran directly. “For the past two years, you’ve been the   Raven. For those two years, your have expanded for powers more than Brynden could have ever imagined. But doing so distanced you from him.” She pointed to Summer. “Our gifts give us the power to separate us from this world, but if we do it for too long, we forget ourselves.”

Voices of the past began to speak from passages of the cave.

“I know it’s tempting, but if you’re trapped in Summer for too long you’ll forget what it was to be human.” Jojen’s voice said.

Meera’s voice came from a different tunnel. “You'd forget us, Bran. You'd forget your mother and father. You'd forget your brothers and sisters. You'd forget Winterfell. You'd forget you.” 

“It is beautiful beneath the sea, but if you stay too long you’ll drown.” Brynden Rivers’ voice whispered from the weirwood roots.

“At this point.” Winter Lily said, “You’re tied to an anchor, forever to drown. But luckily for you, I am the knife that will cut you loose. We need you to remember how to feel.”

_ ‘So where do we start?’  _ Summer asked _. _

Winter Lily placed her hand on Bran’s shoulder and Summer’s mane and took them to Winterfell, but long ago. “We start with the easiest of emotions, anger.”

The walls of Winterfell were bare of banners bearing the direwolf of House Stark. They were instead littered with the skins of flayed men with the same painted over them in blood. The towers and keeps were in flames, smoke rising as high as a dragon could fly.

In the courtyard, amidst the smoke and flames, a pale-eyed man stood above a Stark King of Old who was kneeling against his will. He was wearing a cloak of human skin and a crown of human bones nailed together. Surround them were flayed sons and daughters of the Stark King, hanging from the walls and nailed to giant crosses.

“You will suffer for this, Royce.” The Stark King said. “Winter is coming.” Royce, the name of many of Red King’s of House Bolton.

“And yet it isn’t here when you need it,” Royce replied before he pulled an iron dirk from his belt and slashed it across the Stark King’s eyes. Royce didn’t kill him, he only blinded him. “And now you will burn in the darkness. But do not fret, I will send your regards to the rest of your kin when we find them.” Royce turned away and exited the castle ground as the flames consumed everything within the walls. But when the flames reached Bran, Winter Lily, and Summer, they had not a single effect on them.

“The first victory the Boltons won against the Starks,” said Winter Lily.

“Old Nan told me stories about this,” Bran said. “She didn’t shy from the truth about the Red Kings.”

The fires were brushed away by a great gust and the entirety of the castle transformed. Winterfell was back into how it was meant to be.

They were taken to the outside of the castle, an army was camped at the outskirts and a group of twenty riders and fifty men at arms bearing a peace banner waited outside the camp with the army behind them to meet with some approaching Ironborn. One of the Ironborn carried one of their own over his shoulders, bound and a sack over his head.

The riders except for one carried shields bearing the Bolton sigil. The own without was someone far too familiar. Ramsay.

“I would be lying if I said I am pleased you have surrendered,” Ramsay told the Ironborn as they halted. “I had a bet going with some of my men whether or not you would surrender. And now I owe a few silver stags.” Some of the men behind Ramsay chuckled heartily. He dismounted his horse and approached the Ironborn alone, carrying no weapon. The only thing he had was a parchment rolled up in his hand. “I am Ramsay Snow, son of Roose Bolton.”

The Ironborn carrying who had to be Theon stepped forward. “Dagmer Cleftjaw,” he announced before tossing Theon to the ground. “And here is our great prince.” Dagmer knelt down to Theon and pulled the sack off his head.

Ramsay’s face pulled back being exaggeratingly surprised at the sight of Theon. “Compared to you lot he’s the prettiest Ironborn I’ve ever seen.” that raised some laughter on both sides. Ramsay raised up his hand, displaying the parchment. “As promised by the King in the North, Robb Stark, you are hereby pardoned of your crimes and allowed safe return to the Iron Islands. All that is left is to hand over your weapons and you are free to go.” Ramsay lowered the parchment and eyed it curiously in his hands.

“Our weapons?” Dagmer asked. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“No, but if you haven’t noticed yet, you  _ are _ Ironborn after all. What’s to stop you from reaving and raping your way back home?”

Dagmer rested his hand on the hilt of his sword and eyed Ramsay cautiously.

“Come now,” Ramsay said, “do you not think me a man of my word?”

There was a cold silence before Dagmer undid his sword belt and he and the other Ironborn turned over there weapons.

Ramsay smiled at them. “Well Dagmer, I must thank you greatly. You’ve just won me my money back. I bet those same men that you would make the wrong choice.” he raised his hand and dozens of Bolton men flooded around the Ironborn and seized them without any struggle at all. “The right choice would have been to die fighting. That would have been far less painful.”

“What are you doing? Robb Stark promised us our freedom!”

Ramsay’s smiled died. “Do I look like Robb Stark to you?” He tossed the parchment aside and turned his gaze to Winterfell. He walked passed them and unintentionally stood face to face with the Older Bran. “The Starks have ruled the North for long enough. I think it’s time to decorate the land with something other than Direwolves. I was thinking about planting twenty of my father’s banners around the castle. If you ask me a banner is a little too… simple. But luckily for me, I have twenty Ironborn instead.” He turned back to his men. “Put them in chains, we’ll flay them after we take care of the great prince of the Iron Islands.”

The moment the Ironborn heard what their fate would be, they all began to struggle and some of them even screamed for mercy.

“Milord Ramsay,” one of the soldiers said, “shall we retake the castle now?”

“Retake it? No… no there is much more to be done before we take the castle.” Ramsay turned his head to Winterfell. “Pick a dozen or so of the castle residents and take them prisoner, do what you will with the rest. After that, burn it.”

The Bolton men were welcomed into the castle at first but immediately began to attack. Some of the men desperately tried to resist and fight back but it was hopeless. Farlan the kennel master was forced to watch his daughter Palla raped before a spear was driven into his back. Mikken’s head was pressed down on his own anvil when a large Bolton man swung one of Mikken’s hammers and crushed his skull.

Summer had begun to growl furiously and even tried to attack some of the men, but he merely passed through them like a ghost. He looked over to Bran as his attempts failed again and again.  _ ‘Do something! You have the power to help them!’ _

“I can’t,” Bran replied, “the ink is already dry. I can’t change what has already happened.”

_ ‘Horseshit. You can, but you don’t want to. You don’t care about them anymore. You don’t care about anyone. Not our people, not our family, not even your friends!’ _

“And yet it was you who caused this. You let the Night King touch you, you who let the dead into the cave, you who got the others killed!” Bran didn’t realize it until then, but he was clenching his fists tightly and raised his voice. “Because of you, I drove our only friend left away from us. I drove Meera away.” The anger that flared up within him had dispersed, replaced with regret.

Palla screamed out when another man took his turn with her. She was clawing at the ground and face red with tears.

“Fuck it.” Bran warged into a crow nestled at the top of the broken tower. He flew down to the rapist and fluttered before him, clawing at his face and tearing through one of his eyes. The man released Palla as he began grasping his eye and screaming. An arrow found its way into the crow and Bran was brought back to himself.

Palla crawled away as the man rolled on the ground, bleeding from his eyes. Some of the other Bolton men laughed at him and took Palla with the others they would take prisoner.

“I’m sorry I had to show you this.” Winter Lily told them.  “But it was the only thing that you hated so much. To see your home and your people torn away from you. Through this, you remember anger. But now, it’s time you remember sadness.”

The moment the Bolton men set the castle aflame, the three of them were taken away from this horrible moment in time to the present.

The three of them stood at the top of the portcullis, looking down into the courtyard as a sobbing man drove a wagon into the castle and revealed the bodies inside. When the last of the bodies was revealed, Edric Dayne emerged from the onlookers, shrieking out in horror when he saw the woman who lay there.

“That’s Edric’s wife, Neela.” Winter Lily told them.

“Mama!” A little girl rushed out of the crowd to the woman Edric was holding in his arms. She had the same hair and eyes as Edric did. “Mama!” She fell to her mother’s body and began to weep as much as her father did. Edric tried to keep her away, but his efforts were in vain,

“In times of war, even those that don’t wield a sword are casualties,” said Winter Lily. “But it’s always their deaths that are grieved the most.”

Bran had seen more death than any living man. He witnessed the slaughtering of the Children of the Forest, the massacre of Hardhome, the butchering of Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen, Maelor Targaryen being torn to pieces by a mob at Bitterbridge. Cruel death never ran short in Westeros, and there would never be an end to it. 

But this was a torture for Edric’s daughter, a pain no child should suffer. Summer whined as Ashara’s crying was loud enough for everyone to hear.

Sansa had burst from the crowd and taken Ashara into her arms and away from the bodies. “No!” Ashara cried out. “Mama!”

Though the Bran, Summer, and Winter Lily were too far to hear normally, Sansa’s whispers were as if she were right next to them. “Don’t look,” she begged, “don’t look... please don’t look.” She was just as horrified at this as most were, but she had a great pain she shared with Ashara. She knew the weight of seeing a greatly loved one taken away. Sansa was near in tears as Ashara cried into the fur of Sansa’s cloak.

It didn’t take long for someone else to cry out at the sight of the dead. But this time, it was a woman.

“No! Talla! Not my Talla!” Lady Melessa Tarly fell to her knees when she saw her daughter Talla dead with the others. Samwell was with her and knelt down to her, embracing her and trying to give comfort. He didn’t shed tears, but the pain in his heart showed on his face.

Before things could get worse than they were, Jon had ordered for the bodies to be taken away for care and prepared for a burial. Whether or not he would have them burned on a pyre or have their bones sent to their homes was yet to be said.

The four Dornish children were identified as Oberyn Martell's bastard daughters, Ellia, Dorea, Obella, and Loreza Sand, all of them were Tyene’s sisters by their mother. Now she and Sarella Sand were the only ones alive with Martell blood.

‘ _ Cersei did all of this, just for a message.’  _ Summer said.

“This isn’t a message,” Bran said, “it’s just evil.”

“No! Mama!” Ashara cried out one last time before her voice changed into Sansa’s and the three of them were at the Great Sept of Balor.

“No! Father no! Somebody, please help him!” Sansa was held back by one of the Kingsguard as Illyn Payne lined Ice with father’s neck.

Bran stood directly in front of his father and watched as his family’s ancestral sword was brought into the air. As the sword was brought down, Bran heard his father muttering in a whisper. “I kept my promise, Lya-” Ned Stark’s words ended as the blade cut cleanly through his neck.

Bran felt a stab in his chest, but it was no knife or arrow that made him feel pain, it was misery.

Summer began to howl out, his voice rising above the crowd’s but heard only by Bran and Winter Lily.

“I’m sorry.” Winter Lily said. “He never deserved this.”

“No,” Bran said, “he didn’t.” He turned his head and saw Sansa pass out in horror and Joffrey looking proud. But Cersei, she was the only one who looked aggravated at this.

Bran had never truly met Cersei Lannister, but something about her demeanor affected him in a way he could not yet describe.  There was a curiosity, one had often had as a child, one that led him to that tower. This feeling drove him to explore once more.

The steps to the Great Sept changed into a bedroom in the Red Keep.  Cersei’s face had suddenly transformed into what she looked like now. She was sitting at a small table in a light robe with a chalice of wine in one hand and a raven scroll in the other. Daario Naharis was sitting on her bed, pulling his shirt back on.

“Are you sure it wise to have those girls killed like that?” Daario asked. “No one would look to you as queen anymore, just another murderer. And the last person who sat on the Iron Throne who was called a murderer was a certain Targaryen, a mad one.”

The Cersei of the now smirked as she sipped her wine. “Let the peasants say what they will. When they see me they shall fear me. There is no greater way to keep them in line.”

“And what about the Targaryens? Once they see that you broke the truce, they and their armies will have more cause than any to attack. Even with the spike pits, the wildfire, and the scorpions, our chances to win this battle are slim.”

“I’ve never fought in any battle, but I know to learn from those who have. Stannis Baratheon led six thousand men north of the Wall and broke an army of one hundred thousand wildlings without ever meeting the entire force. They attacked a group of seven hundred and captured their King Beyond the Wall. After that, the rest of the wildlings dispersed. Cut off the head, and the body perishes. While those fools at Winterfell grieve, they won’t notice the approaching blade. By tomorrow’s end, the war will have been won and their army will scatter about and we will destroy every last one of them.”

Daario helped himself and poured a glass of the wine. “The last time I ever saw the dragons, Drogon’s head was the size of a horse but Rhaegal and Viserion were smaller. From what the spies reported, Drogon is now the size of Balerion the Dread, Rhaegal could devour a small horse in one bite, and that blue one is as large as Drogon was when Daenerys left the Bay of Dragon’s for good. Are you sure you want to anger three beasts as powerful as them? A dragon with a rider flies and attacks in coordination, but a wild dragon, and an angry wild dragon… not even I am so curious to witness what would happen.”

“And thus the world will see the true nature of the dragons. Creatures that bring nothing but fire and death that must be exterminated from the world.”

Summer growled at Cersei and lunged at her, but the room vanished as did the people in it. The three of them were back in the cave.  _ ‘What did she mean by that? Cutting off the head?’ _

“Mance Rayder was the head of the Wilding army, so the head of the Targaryen army is Jon and Daenerys,” Bran replied before turning to Winter Lily. “Take us to Jon.”

They were brought to the Godswood. Jon was with Ser Davos, Tyrion, and Ser Jorah and Ser Lorimas who were acting as his guard.

“What is the latest report from our people in King’s Landing?  What do they say about Cersei’s caches there?” Jon asked as he paced back and forth.

“I spoke to Varys, but he has heard nothing.  Any news from south of the Neck is hard to come by,” Tyrion admitted with a great sigh.

Jon turned to Ser Lorimas. “Have you heard anything about your men? Anything at all?”

“I’m sorry, your grace. Neither Will nor I have had any contact with Rolly and the others since we parted ways.”

Jon was angry, far more than Bran had ever seen him. “This has gone too far. I want our armies to ready to march on the capital as soon as they possibly can.”

“We cannot act rashly either.  If anything, that is what my sister will expect.”  Tyrion was trying to calm him down, but it was having no effect on him.

“And while we sit here and do nothing, Cersei could be stealing children from their homes and sending their bodies with throats cut like she already has. We can’t wait any longer!”

“Your grace,” Ser Davos intervened, “we do need to end this as quickly as can, but while the wildfire is beneath the city and Cersei alive to order it lit at any moment, we need to be cautious about our every move.”

“Ser Davos is right,” Tyrion nodded his head towards the smuggler.  “Cersei can be unpredictable at her worst. She is little better than Aerys was when my father reached the city gates, probably worse actually.  We need to take extreme caution, even though I understand every fiber of your being says otherwise.”

“Your Grace,” Ser Jorah said, “may I suggest something?”

“Anything at this point.”

“Perhaps we can clear out the city of people before the wildfire is lit. I’ve heard rumors from Lannister men about what Cersei is doing to the people. If they knew, maybe they could run before it’s too late.”

“And what rumors are these?” Tyrion asked.

“From what I’ve heard, Cersei’s grain store’s have emptied. She collects the dead from the streets and butchers them for the small folk.”

Both Tyrion and Davos tensed from disgust. “Instead of listening for whispers, we should start spreading our own,” Tyrion said. “It could work, but what if Cersei catches on?”

“All of this is rides on Cersei.” Ser Davos reminded. “I think that if we are to have any chance, the best one is to rid ourselves of the one in charge before she has the chance to destroy everything.”

“What do you mean?” Jon asked.

“I mean that maybe if Cersei were to die before the fighting started, the city could be saved and the sellswords cornered.”

“No, we’re not sending assassins. We’re not stepping down to her level.”

“I’m not talking about sending an assassin, I’m talking about sending the right person.”

_ ‘Jon’s alright, but what about Daenerys?’  _ Summer asked.  _ ‘What’s she doing right now?’ _

The godswood transformed into the Lord’s Solar of Winterfell. Daenerys was speaking with Varys at the desk. They were both upset, Varys more than Daenerys.

“Your grace,” Varys said, “I would ask for forgiveness for my failures. However, there are too many for me to be deserving of it.”

“The fault is not your’s Varys,” Daenerys told him, “we’ve all been too trusting that things would go how we wanted them. We failed to let ourselves see that Cersei would go back on her word. We were drunk from our victory, of our survival.”

Winter Lily had a sympathetic look towards Varys. “It’s not his fault. Cersei’s spies have been doing everything they absolutely can to intercept Varys’ little birds. He had not a single bit of power to prevent it from happening.”

“Regardless of what the excuse may be,” Varys continued, “Cersei has managed to thwart me at my own game through Qyburn, a feat only done by Lord Baelish.”  There was almost a wistfulness in his tone before he spoke again. “But unlike Littlefinger, Qyburn is not driven by a quest for power.”

“I don’t care what Qyburn is driven by. He’s a dangerous enemy and I wouldn’t mind if he met the same fate as Petyr Baelish.” Daenerys said with a hint of hatred. “As far as you know, where do your little birds remain silent?”

“Throughout the Crownlands, and the southern borders of the Riverlands-”

Varys was startled by a knock on the door and then the wagon driver entering, closing the door behind him. “Apologies, your grace.” His voice shook with fear. “I didn’t mean to disturb, but I’m too afraid I might not survive to beg for your mercy. The king wouldn’t see me and neither will the Stark Lady. Your grace, I didn’t kill those people, I just drove wagon. Please, show mercy upon me!” He got down to his hands and knees and almost broke down in tears. “They made me watch as they killed those women and children. I didn’t do anything, I swear it by all the gods!”

“What is your name?” Daenerys asked.

“Benjamin, your grace. Please, I’m no one special.”

“You have nothing to fear, Benjamin,” Daenerys told him. “I will not punish a man for the sins of others-”

“Forgive me for interrupting, your Grace,” Varys said, “but who allowed you into the room? The guards would have announced you and asked for your permission to enter.”

There was sudden stillness in the room that even Bran felt. Something wasn’t right. Cersei said that everyone would be distracted with grieving while the head was to be cut off.

“The guards?” Benjamin asked. He looked up and the fear had all disappeared from his face and was replaced with an emptiness of emotion. “The guards are dead. The Dothraki don’t wear much armor so sticking them with a knife is rather easy.” Before anyone could react, Benjamin reached into his sleeve and pulled out a knife, small enough to be concealed and sharp enough to kill. With a great speed, he dashed forward as Varys got out of his seat to stand in between him and Daenerys. Except the queen wasn’t the intended target. The knife pierced Varys in the chest, puncturing his right lung. Varys coughed out as his mouth filled with blood and instantly fell to the ground.

“Varys!” Daenerys shouted out, but no one was close enough to hear. She back out of her chair, throwing it down in front of her.

“A woman tries to run, yet she moves away from the door.” The driver reached a hand to his chin and pulled away at his face. It came off like a mask and his hair and body changed instantly. He grew taller and his hair was now red with a white stripe. “Two of five names have now been given to the Many-Faced God. Melessa Tarly and Varys the Spider. Now only three remain. Tyrion Lannister, Sansa Stark, and Daenerys Targaryen.”

Summer growled at the Faceless Man. _ ‘We have to do something! We have to stop him!’ _

The Faceless Man showed a hint of a smirk. “A man cannot be stopped, especially by those who are only spectators to death.”

Summer ceased growling and instead whimpered. He became afraid.  _ ‘What is he?’ _

Daenerys became wide-eyed. “You’re a Faceless Man, like Arya.”

“The girl named Arya Stark knows our ways, but she is no Faceless Man. She gave the Many-Faced God the death that was owed, just as I must. And now the third name shall be given, but not until Daenerys Targaryen makes a choice.”

“A choice?” Daenerys asked.

The door began to bang constantly. Someone outside the room was trying to break through the lock.

“Daenerys Targaryen must die, but to kill her would kill the lives she carries. So Daenerys Targaryen must give a man two names to repay what he takes.”

Daenerys shook her head. “I will not. I will not trade the lives of my children so that others may die!”

The man looked displeased. “Then the lives are forfeit-”

“Ilyara Naeron” Varys muttered through the blood in his mouth. “You are Ilyara Naeron...” Varys said no words after that, nor did he breathe.

The man stood in place, terrified of what was just said. He then began to cough. At first, it was light but then it became heavy and water began to erupt from his mouth. Now he was choking and he collapsed to his hands and knees, dropping the knife aside. The water would not stop and soon it was like he was spitting out a river. His skin purpled and his eyes began to bulge. Soon there were colorings of blood in the water.

After a period and frustration, the man collapsed to the ground and the water stopped coming out of his mouth. And slowly, his face began to slide away. His body changed again. His hair grayed and size shrunk. His skin wrinkled and after the man’s face was gone, a woman far into her years remained.

“Illyara Naeron,” Bran said, “who was she?”

“She was one of the first Faceless Men. Besides that, she was no one.” Winter Lily explained.

The door finally broke open and Jaime Lannister tumbled in, Valyrian steel sword in hand. This startled Daenerys and she fell back on her knees. He stepped forward slowly, scanning the room and the bodies that lie dead. Ser Jaime knelt down to Varys’ body and closed his eyelids. 

The moment his fingers made contact, the three were taken to a memory not too long ago, to the day Ser Jaime arrived in Winterfell with Ser Bronn and the Dothraki. Ser Jaime was found by Varys.

“I was in a great anticipation for your arrival, Ser Jaime,” Varys admitted. “My little birds sang a song about you even I found hard to believe, but find that I must know. Did you really try to kill your own sister?”

“The woman who calls herself Cersei is not my sister. She died the day she killed our child.”

“My my, how far you have fallen to openly to admit your taboo. Yet now you have nothing else to do but rise back up. So tell me good Ser, if your sister does not sit upon the Iron Throne then who does?”

“A Mad Queen who I have no doubt will kill every single soul that is marching north to fight the dead. Even with such a truce, I think we are all going to see her draw blood before she is willing to step down from the Iron Throne. But what makes me worry is how. She’s become more dangerous than I ever thought.”

The vision faded back into the present, Daenerys struggling to get up. Ser Jaime held his hand out to help her. “Your Grace, are you alright? What happened here? Who is this?”

She took his hand but before she could give her answer, Daenerys winced and cried out as she started to get to her feet. She fell back to the ground, both her hands covering her belly.

“Your Grace!” Jaime rushed to her side, “what’s wrong.”

“The babies…” she started, but her attention shifted over to the door. 

Ser Jaime turned around and saw two men in Lannister armor with their swords drawn entering the room. His left hand went to the hilt of Widow’s Wail. “What are you doing here?”

They practically ignored him and looked directly at Daenerys. “For the Queen.” Each of them muttered.

Ser Jaime drew his Valyrian sword to defend Daenerys as the first of the two men charged forward. With his first block, it was obvious that his skill was still far behind what it was with his right hand. He made use of his golden hand and backhanded the first man across the face, causing him to trip over Varys’ body. The second man had already swung his sword at Jaime but didn’t expect him to catch it with the golden hand. Ser Jaime stabbed Widow's Wail into the second man’s armor at the chest a killed him.

Ser Jaime didn’t even have his sword pulled out of the man’s chest when he realized that the first man was right next to him with his sword raised. There was an instant moment that Ser Jaime knew that he was going to die.

Bran wouldn’t let that happen, so he warged into the man’s mind and tore his thoughts apart. The man froze in place and dropped his sword before falling to the ground shaking violently. Ser Jaime used this chance and pulled his sword free and stabbed it into the shaking man’s heart, killing him instantly.

Bran felt a searing pain in his chest when he returned to himself.

_ ‘Why would you do that?’  _ Summer asked.  _ ‘He’s the one who crippled us. He’s the one who pushed us out a window to kill us!’ _

“I didn't do it for him,” Bran replied. “I did it to save Daenerys. If Jaime Lannister dies, then no one will protect Daenerys and her children.”

The floor suddenly shook violently for only a brief moment and was followed by a flash of green light from the window. Both were obvious signs of something terrible. “Wildfire,” Bran muttered as he dashed to the window, not seeing that Ser Jaime was right next to him. They looked outside and could see that the Winterfell armory has been almost completely destroyed and was covered in the green flames of wildfire.

Without warning, an explosion of wildfire happened but this time it was in the Winterfell forges. There were many who were near and became consumed by the flames. A third explosion happened at the storerooms followed immediately by a fourth in the Great Keep, but the blast only destroyed half of it.

The outside began to fill with screams of pain and panic, but they were soon overpowered by battle cries of men in Lannister colors spilling into the castle grounds.

Bran, Summer, and Winter Lily were taken outside to the courtyard were the Lannister men were entering and attacking. There were coming in by the tens and all had this crazed devote look about them.

“The Lannisters are attacking,” Bran stated.

“Not all of them, just the undying loyalists to Cersei.” Winter Lily corrected. One of the Winterfell guards was charging straight for her, but he was meaning to attack a loyalist behind her. The moment before he would have collided with her, Winter Lily brought Bran and Summer to the battlements, giving them a full view of the chaos.

The Loyalists had taken the castle by surprise and slain many who got in their way, be it soldier or just one of the residents. But they were about to be met by a small force of thirty men charging to meet them. Jon led them men at the van with Ser Jorah and Ser Lorimuss behind him. Among the charge was Brienne and Podrick followed by Edric Dayne who looked more bloodthirsty than anyone there.

Jon carried a spear in one hand and a Stark round shield in the other. He thrust the spear into one of the loyalists with a mighty war cry as the two forces met. The shaft of the spear splintered and broke in half before Jon tossed what remained aside, but before he could draw his sword he had to use his shield to beat another man’s head bloody. The shield dropped from his arm before he wrapped his fingers around the handle of his sword and drew it. The moment Jon clashed his sword with an attacking ax, the ax blade shattered into pieces and the Valyrian steel of the sword began to make a noise, almost as if it was singing.

Jon gripped his sword with both hands and thrust it deep into the loyalist’s chest, killing him instantly. At long last, the blade had its first kill. With every swing, every kill, the blade of Jon’s sword would ring in a harmony.

“What is that noise?” Bran asked openly. “I’ve never heard a sword ever sound like that.”

Winter Lily smirked down as she watched the battle. “It is the song of the sword. The noise is the power it holds.”

‘But what is it?’ Summer asked.

“The sound of magic. There is no greater thing imbued with such power. So much that some of it escapes into a song of ice and fire. No sword has ever been more perfect for its wielder.”

“What do you mean by that?”  Bran asked.

“Jon,” Winter Lily said.  When Bran’s confusion continued, she explained further.  “Jon is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. Rhaegar was the Last Dragon and Lyanna was a daughter of Winter.  Fire and Ice. This weapon was made for Jon, reforged in dragonfire after it was plunged into the chest of the Night King. They are together the songs of Ice and Fire.”

The song was broken then by a man roaring out in hatred. Bran, Winter Lily, and Summer turned their attention back to the battle and saw Edric Dayne charging into the fray with Dawn and First Light in his hands. The moment the loyalists were within his reach, he tore through them without even a hint of hesitation or remorse. Dawn and First Light carved through all the steel that met their edges. But his form and technique were horrible. He was killing, but if anyone tried to they kill him just as easy.

Edric impaled a man with both of his sword and shouted like a wild animal at him as the life left his eyes. He was no knight or lord in this battle, just an angry killer. His fury was blinding him to everything around him. He kept pushing forward while everyone else was pulling back to form a solid defense. He fought two men at once and they could barely block his flurry of strikes, but it was then that Edric’s rage blinded him to see the blade that slashed down at him, cutting across his chest. He dropped his swords and fell to the ground, alive but injured. He was saved when a crossbow killed one for the men he was fighting and a spear the other before getting dragged back by one of the Northmen.

There were still dozens of loyalists in the courtyard, all of them proving their skill and cutting down most of who came to challenge them alone as Edric did. But reinforcements from the camps were coming. A giant stormed through the portcullis with a small tree trunk he was using as a club and started to crush anyone wearing Lannister red. There were a few more giants rushing to the castle followed by many other soldiers to aid in the attack. But some of the loyalists fought their way to the gatehouse and succeeded in taking it and dropped the gate, cutting off any reinforcements. The giant already inside was facing men with spear and wore no armor to protect him from them except for a whale’s rib bones around his chest. But after a spear pierced into the giant’s chest, he fell down and died.

_ ‘Enough of this!’  _ Summer growled at Bran.  _ ‘We can’t just watch this any longer, it’s not right!’ _

“No,” Bran said, “it isn’t.” he felt a spark of desire arise within him. “I’m won’t just be the watcher while everyone fights and dies!”

_ ‘Finally.’ _

All Bran could do was warg into an animal at the moment, but a flock of ravens wasn’t going to be enough. He needed something far more dangerous with wings. He reached out and searched the skies and the lands for were his solution was and sure enough, he found Lyarras with her brothers, miles away on a hunt but flying back when they sensed their parents in danger.

He felt himself and Summer both warg at the same time into Lyarras, something that only Jon was able to do until now. Her mind was in a state of panic as she flew with her brothers back to the castle.

_ ‘You’re faster than them,’ _ Bran told her, _ ‘Jon needs you now.’ _

Hearing his words, Lyarras flew past Drogon and Rhaegal and a far greater speed and left them behind.

The castle was on the edge of the Horizon, but rising into the sky were two towers of smoke, one of them tinted a putrid green, but the other as black as Drogon’s hide. There was a fire of evil in the castle and another coming from where all of the men were camped. Getting closer, Lyarras could see that a great portion of the tents were set afire, most likely by the bad men attacking.

Lyarras screeched out as she swooped down onto the castle walls, perched just above where the fighting was. There were too many of Father’s men to use her fire, but enough of the bad men that she could just reach her neck down and feast on their bodies.

She bore her teeth and latched them around two men at once, piercing through their steel skin as easily as flesh. She bit down hard and separated their legs from their bodies. The taste of blood was satisfying, but she was not hungry. She spat out what remained and looked for more to kill. There was a long line of men with bows shooting at her on the walls, and none of Father’s men were near. She opened her mouth and let out her flames on them, enjoying their screams as they tossed and turned. She crawled down into the courtyard, stepping on many who got in her path. She sank her teeth into another man who was rushing at her with a sword and tossed his body at his allies.

Amidst the fighting, she spotted father forced back with his men. One of the bad men cut through the man next father who wore a dragon on his steel skin and was going to kill Father. Lyarras couldn’t let that happen. She let the heat build up with her to unleash a father, but before she could one of father’s men in green clothes took the blow meant for him. He was cut across his back and yelled out. Father noticed this and killed the man who attacked father’s savior. Father pulled the man away from the battle, staining his clothes in his blood. Father was swarmed by his own men, he was safe now and the tides were turning.

Bran returned to himself and gasped for air. Warging into a dragon took a great amount of energy from him. “I can’t believe I did that again. It felt incredible. What about you, Summer?” But when bran looked up, Summer was gone, nowhere to be seen. “Where did he go?”

“He’s right here, he’s a part of you again like he once was.” Winter Lily smiled proudly at Bran. “My work is done, but you need to go save someone who needs you now and wake up.” 

Bran and Winter Lily were both in his room when she said that. He was laying on the bed, asleep as he had been for months. At the foot of his bed was Meera, holding a dagger in her hands. She barred the door with his wardrobe and there were men trying to break in.

“Meera,” Bran whispered. He looked back at Winter Lily. “Thank you... for everything.”

Winter Lily’s smile broke for a second and she looked sad.

“What’s wrong?” Bran asked.

Winter Lily began to cry. “This is the last time I ever get to see you.”

“What are you talking about? Who are you?”

She smiled at him. “You won’t remember me or most of this when you wake up. Now close your eyes.”

Bran couldn’t. What was it about this woman that intrigued him so? He wanted to ask half a dozen more questions, he wanted to know so much. But then he thought maybe he will know, but not today.

“Close your eyes.” She whispered to him.

Bran let his eyelids fall down like entering a wonderful sleep well deserved. The weight of the sight began to vanish and he could feel the world around him disappear.

“Until we meet again, father.”

* * *

 

  
  


Meera

  
  


The barricade was holding strong, though a wardrobe was hardly a barricade. But the pounding from the outside wouldn’t stop. Ever since the rumbling and the boom from outside, there were men shouting and sounds of steel clashing against steel.

Meera knew the sound of a battle when she heard it and wasn’t taking any chances. She moved the wardrobe in the room to block the door and it was long until someone started trying to break in. But even if they did manage to get in, all Meera had was a dagger and no armor, only her clothes from the swamps and her cloak.

She stood by the bedside with her dagger in hand, watching for the moment when the wardrobe would be moved just enough for someone to finally break in. She could feel herself shaking with fear. She was supposed to go home today, but the bodies that were delivered put a hold on that. Instead, she was trapped in a room with only herself and the Three-Eyed Raven. He was asleep on his body as he always was,  never uttering a sound or moving an inch.

A sudden splintering of wood sent a shiver throughout Meera’s body, The wardrobe shifted and the door was cracking open every time it was banged. She tightened her grip on her dagger as a man’s voice from the hallway called out.

“We only want the cripple! Just give him to us, and you live!”

“Leave now and you can live!” Meera retorted.

“A fuckin girl? Now we definitely won’t kill you, it’s more fun when there’s a struggle.”

The memory of being chained up at the mercy of the Night’s Watch at Craster’s Keep flashed in her mind. They were going to rape her had Jojen not stopped them and the true brothers of the Watch arrived. But now there was no one but her and however many were outside the door.

Meera stepped backward and leaned to Bran’s ear, praying that he would hear her. “Help me,” she whispered.

The wardrobe was pushed over as the door was forced open. There were three men in Lannister armor, two of them had swords in hand but the one leading them had a battle ax.

Meera held her dagger to them and they only sniggered at her. But their smiles disappeared when the leader looked at Bran, terrified.

Meera stole a quick glance at Bran and saw his eyes were wide open and pure white.

Seconds later, there was a loud snarl and a grey blur that tackled one of the men in the hallway. He screamed out for only an instant before there was a snapping of bones and tearing of flesh.

“It’s one of the fuckin wolves!” The other two men charged into the hallway, shouting out battles cries that were short-lived.

“For Cerse- gah!” The leader was knocked back into view and was on the ground, looking like he was about to shit himself from fear. He tried crawling away, but the snarling dragged him out of sight and the last noise he made was a scream that could crack glass.

Moments later, the largest of the Direwolves trotted into the room with blood staining the fur around her mouth. Instead of snarling, the direwolf looked calmly at Meera.

“It’s Nymeria, isn’t it?” Meera asked as if expecting an answer, but the only one she got was the direwolf leaving the room. “Thank you.”

Worried that more would come, Meera sheathed her dagger and ran into the hallway. The floors were stained with blood and all of the Lannister men had their throats ripped out. Meera retrieved one of the swords and stepped back into the room, not expecting to hear a familiar voice.

“Meera.”

She was completely shocked to see Bran’s eyes back to being brown. His voice was hoarse and dry, but it ought to be given how long it’s been since he spoke.

“You’re finally awake.” She spoke plainly. “Was that you in the wolf?” she wanted to feel happy, but she remembered what he would be returned as. Nothing. She had to remind herself that he wasn’t Bran, he was the Three-Eyed Raven.

“Meera-”

“There’s probably more coming, so we need the door shut again-”

“Meera!” he called out and he sat himself up. “It’s me.”

She almost laughed. “I know it’s you, who else would you be?”

“No Meera, it’s me. It’s Bran.”

She froze for a moment when she finally realized what he was trying to mean. “Bran? Not the Three-Eyed Raven?”

“I’m still the Three-Eyed Raven, but I’m Bran again.” For a moment he looked scared, and she didn’t why. In fact, she felt scared too, scared that this was just a bad dream or just her imagination.

“Are you sure you are? Are you sure you’re not just remembering how to be Brandon Stark?”

“I don’t need to remember how, I am Brandon Stark.”

Meera walked over to him slowly, almost as if he was a direwolf that would lash out at the wrong move. But when she was close enough, she knew it in her heart that this was Bran. She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him and he did the same to her. “I didn’t think you’d come back.”

“Neither did I. I thought I’d be lost forever. But I made it back.”

She let him go and took a moment to look at his eyes. Before, they were devoid of anything except color, but now she saw emotion in them.

He smiled up at her. “So what did I miss?”

Finally, she broke into a small fit of laughter and shoved him in his shoulder. “There’s a battle going on outside the castle.” She sat down by his side. “What happened to you? After you fell asleep.”

He looked puzzled and shook his head. “The last thing I remember was getting attacked by the Night King. After that… I only remember seeing you.”

She scoffed at him playfully.

“You were here, in a dress, telling me goodbye.”

Meera‘s smirk vanished when he said that. It was the night of the feast that she came here to say her farewell to him and her confession.

“You said there was something you wanted to say after made it to the castle. What was it?”

Meera swallowed when he asked. She wasn't ready to tell him now. “Something for later, when the war is won.”  Speaking of war made her remember that there could still be men coming for Bran. “We should get you out of here. There might be more looking for you.”

“No, the rest are going after Daenerys.” He stared off into the distance. “But she needs help. She’s about to give birth to her children.”

“She… what?”

“And outside, Jon’s leading the men and retaking the courtyard. They’ve almost won.” Bran began to pull the blankets off him. “Can you take me to him. I want to go see him.”

“Are sure it’s safe?”

“I’m sure.”

While Meera struggled to help Bran, four Stark guards came to the room.  “Mi’lord, are you alright? When the battle began, His Grace told us to come here and protect you,” one of them said. “We didn’t expect to find you awake. It’s good to have you back.”

“We are fine, but I need to see him,” Bran told him. “And the Queen is in danger. You must go to her now!” Two of the men departed for the queen while two stayed to assist Bran. With their help, Bran was outside in the courtyard in minutes, Meera trailing behind his chair.  His eyes scanned the area until they found what they were looking for. Jon was there and looked unharmed, but Lord Reed…

Meera noticed where his gaze fell.  “Father!” she yelled, taking off in a run to where her father lay in Jon’s arms.  He looked up as she approached moving out of her way when she reached them. He was bleeding heavily from a wound on his back, a large gash.

“Meera, he…”  Jon could not get the words out.  

“I was paying back...a debt long due, Your Grace,” Howland muttered. “ Your mother saved my honor at Harrenhal. Saving her son was the most I could hope to do for my friend.” His gaze shifted over to Meera. “I will not say do not weep for me, Meera, for I know it shall a long time until I see you again.” He took her hand in his, his skin felt ice cold. “Be strong for me… for our people, my little… winter lily.” Howland’s eyelids drifted closed and his whole body went limp.

Meera couldn’t help herself. She was never given the chance to grieve for Jojen when he was left to die. She fell onto her father’s body and couldn’t hold back her tears or her moans of sadness. She was alone now, the last of the Reeds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be much quicker, I promise


	80. Daenerys XIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two months overdue

Daenerys

Ser Jaime stood watch at the doorway to the room, keeping an eye out for any other men that meant to kill Daenerys. He fought the two in the room, but there were echoes of fighting emanating from the halls. The floor was stained with the blood of Varys and the Faceless Man where they once lay. Their bodies and those of the men who attacked were laid aside and covered with a sheet covered in spots of blood.

But while Ser Jaime stood watch, Daenerys lay in Sansa's bed, breathing steadily as the pains of her contractions would come and go. They began hours before the attack, only minor tugs within her, but she paid no heed to them. She was unconscious the first time she gave birth and never experienced these sensations before, not knowing that these were signs of labor.

"Bit ironic, isn't it?" Ser Jaime mentioned.

"What is?" Daenerys breathed.

"I was alone with Aerys when I killed him, and now I'm alone with his daughter, trying to keep her alive."

In truth, the thought had occurred to her.

"Though if I was with the King instead of you, then history would have repeated itself."

"What?"

"Your mother asked for me to go with her to Dragonstone before you were born. Believe me, I wanted to go. Anywhere was better than King's Landing. But Aerys wouldn't allow it."

"You must have a soft spot for pregnant Targaryen women."

Ser Jaime laughed a little. "Rhaella was my friend, one of the few I had besides Rhaegar in the capitol. I promised to die for her if things ever came to that."

Daenerys was never aware of the devotion Ser Jaime had for her mother. "And yet you tried to kill her daughter with a spear."

"What's the phrase you like to use? I am not my father? How should I have known that when you led a horde of Dothraki with a dragon and burned my men alive? I thought you were Aerys returned from the grave, but when you saw me, for that brief moment, I hesitated."

"Why?" Her breath left her as another shot of pain rolled over her body.

"Because I thought I was looking at Rhaella again. And I thought perhaps, what if you weren't your father, but your mother? She sometimes did have a fiery side that Aerys never saw. And then, of course, there was the dragon about to breathe fire at me."

Daenerys was more than surprised to hear these things from Ser Jaime. Ser Barristan hardly mentioned anything about her mother as did Viserys. The memory of her made both of them sad. She couldn't help but be amused that the one who spoke most of her mother was the man who killed her father. "Life is strange that way. Yesterday's enemies are today's allies...and friends."

"Yes… but how long until today's friends are tomorrow's enemies?"

Daenerys tensed as the felt her body tightened again, this one hurting the most. "Ah! That was a big one." She noticed Ser Jaime backing into the room slowly, holding his sword aside as a low growl was heard and the large white direwolf that was Ghost entered, baring his teeth at Ser Jaime.

"Easy," Ser Jaime said, "I'm not your enemy."

"Ghost!" Daenerys called, "Don't hurt him! He's a friend, he's protecting me." Immediately, Ghost calmed down and trotted over to her, whining half the time. "I'm alright, Ghost." She reached out and nuzzled his snout. "Where is everyone? Why isn't anyone else here to help?" Daenerys asked.

"I don't know," Ser Jaime replied, "maybe the wildfire cut off the way here or the enemy is doing that."

Ser Jaime was proven wrong when two people and a child appear in the doorway.

"You see Gilly?" Sam asked. "I knew Ghost wouldn't let us down." He was reassuring her, but he looked just as terrified as Gilly.

"But he's wearing the lions on his armor!" Gilly pointed out to Ser Jaime. Her child, Little Sam, was looking around the room curiously.

"You can trust him," Daenerys told them. "Ser Jaime has been protecting me."

Sam and Gilly were hesitant to enter, but once they saw that Ghost was being tame they were relieved. Behind them were two of the Winterfell guard. They entered after Sam and Gilly.

"Your grace," one of them said, "we were sent by Lord Brandon to help how we can."

Finally, a bit of luck. But Daenerys was still surprised to hear who sent them. "Bran's woken up?"

"He has, your grace." One of the men said. Unlike his partner who was dressed in the boiled leather armor that the majority of Northern bannermen wore, this man wore a simple chainmail under his heavy jerkin and murky colored clothes. His cloak was tied with a darkened pin of three water lilies.

"What are your names?"

The one in leather spoke first. "Michael, your grace."

"Lonnel. Lonnel Fenn, your grace."

"Michael, Lonnel," Daenerys spoke, "I thank you for your valor and efforts today, but the fighting is not over. Defend this room with your lives."

They both bowed their heads and took to different directions in the halls to keep watch.

"Ghost," the direwolf perked his head up at the sound of his name. "I need Jon, go get Jon for me, please."

Ghost rushed out of the room as fast as he could and down the hallway out of sight.

"Are you sure sending the wolf off was a good idea?"

"Ah!" This time the pain wasn't from a contraction, but something else that hurt far more.

Ser Jaime rushed to her side and helped adjust her position on the bed. "Breathe, keep breathing."

"He brought Sam here, and how else were we going to get help? Ghost is a smart wolf."

Ser Jaime chuckled. "I'll take a vicious wolf over smart in this situation."

"She's about to birth her children," Gilly noted.

"Really? What gave it away?" Ser Jaime remarked snidely.

"Shut up, Jaime," Daenerys hissed. She wasn't in any mood for any sass. If Tyrion were giving a lecture about something right now, she might have strangled him for it. But at least she would know that he was here. Last she knew, he went to the godswood to speak with Jon and Ser Davos, but who knows what could have happened. She worried about him, she worried about Jon and Missandei and everyone else she cared for.

"I can help. I helped all my sisters give birth since I was nine." Daenerys remembered what Jon told her about Gilly being a daughter and wife to her own father, Craster the wildling. The damned man sacrificed his own sons to the White Walkers. But like herself, Gilly was nothing like her father.

Daenerys nodded. "Help me take my leggings off." Gilly set down Little Sam with his father to assist her.

"More red cloaks are coming!" Lonnel Fenn called out from the hallway.

Ser Jaime set his sword aside for a moment to hand one of the swords of the first intruders to Sam. "Do what you can if we die." He told Sam before rushing into the hallway with the Northmen. "Stay away!" The sounds of steel were very close as Ser Jaime engaged the enemy.

Daenerys moaned in pain as she felt the beginnings of another contraction. "How is it looking?" She had to push the words out of her mouth before she screamed. She was holding in as much as she could.

"You need to start pushing," Gilly told her. "It looks like you've been ready for a while now." She folding Daenerys's leggings and set them aside. After that, she helped Daenerys sit more upright for the birth.

"No, I can't not yet." She ground her teeth together as the pain worsened.

"My lady, you're more than ready. You need to start pushing."

"I can't do this without Jon! He needs to be here-" she screamed out again as her insides were shot with pain. "He needs to be here." She whimpered. Jon was the one who proved her wrong about her curse. Until the knowledge of his legitimate birth, he never planned to father children, a curse of his own making. He was the one who gave both himself and her a future. He needed to be here to see their family brought into the world.

"If you don't do it now, then your children may die," Gilly informed. "They're ready and so are you, delaying it will only make it worse." She took Daenerys's hand in her own. "Jon will be more happy to see his family alive than seeing you birth your children and dying. It's going to be alright."

Daenerys couldn't help but still feel some doubt within her. This may be the only chance they have for a future and she didn't want Jon to miss it. But she wanted that future to be alive more than that. She shut her eyes closed, pushed with every ounce of strength she had and screamed out. This moment was excruciating and seemed to be the longest minute of her life. Her waist was burning like she never felt before and her head throbbing with pain.

But all of it disappeared when a baby's cry broke through her screams.

Daenerys gasped for breath and did everything she could to look up. Cradled in Gilly's arms was a newborn babe, red skinned and crying loud for all the world to hear.

"A boy," Gilly said with a smile.

"He's so beautiful." Daenerys never saw anything as precious as her dragons until now. She wanted to reach out and touch her son, but the sight of one clamoring armor interrupted her thoughts. She hoped that it was someone coming to help, anyone.

Daenerys took a deep breath before she began to push a second this. This one was harder to do. She felt so weak after birthing Matthias, she wasn't sure if she had the strength left. She mustered what she could and let out a roar as loud as her dragons. She would not fail today, she would not fail her children.

The pain dispersed and was replaced by another cry of a baby. Gilly had given Matthias to Sam to take care while she took the next into her arms. "Another boy. This one has your hair."

But her hopes were killed when more men in Lannister armor appeared. "Why aren't you fucking dead yet!?" One of them shouted, , shoving his way past Ser Jaime while beating Lonnel Fenn with the pommel of his sword. This man was absolutely determined to get to her. He slipped past the two in his way and was nearly free to run straight inside.

"Please, don't kill my children," Daenerys begged, "please!"

"Fuck you and your chi-" the one talking was interrupted when a dagger was driven in his neck by Lonnel.

One of the other loyalists with him in the back was tackled by Ghost and another killed with a single swing of Jon's sword. He switched to fighting the last of the men, but this one was an experienced fighter.

"Stay away from my family!" Kicking the man square in the chest, Jon made him fall to the ground. Before the loyalist had any chance to get up, Ghost barked out and leaped on top of him, ripping through his throat.

Jon sighed out and looked exhausted. His black sword nearly slipped from his fingers as he relaxed. "Is that the last of them?"

"I think so, your grace." Brienne's voice said. She was just out of sight. "Are you alright, Ser Jaime?"

Daenerys could hear Ser Jaime's voice. "It's nothing too serious. Luckily the wound is on my handless arm."

"Ser Jaime, I will never forget what you've done today."

"I appreciate the gesture, but I think there's someone more important than me you should be seeing to right now."

Jon turned his head and peered into the room, shocked at what he saw.

"Daenerys!" Jon rushed into the room and beheld her lying comfortably in the bed but covered in sweat. He leaned his blood covered sword against the end of the bed before he knelt down to the bedside to see her. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner."

"Jon," Daenerys cocked her head to Gilly and enjoyed the look that came upon his face when he saw their firstborn being cared for. "Say hello to our sons."

"They… I…" He was at a loss for words and on the verge of tears. "Thank you, Dany."

Gilly gently handed Matthias into Daenerys's arms after wrapping him in a blanket. The moment she took him, Matthias's cries softened into tiny little noises. His eyes would blink open and closed periodically, but every time they did she caught sight of a beautiful blue color. No doubt it would change as he grew as most eye colors did for babies.

Daenerys couldn't stop smiling as she ran her thumb over her son's cheek, feeling the softness of his skin. This was when she knew that this was truly not a dream. Her son was with her now, in her arms. "Hello Matthias," she whispered, "I've been waiting to meet you for a long time."

"Don't forget about his brother," Gilly said after she finished wiping Aemon clean of Daenerys's fluids and wrapped him in his own blanket. Daenerys took him in her other arm and held both of her children. His silver hair was barely noticeable. "Aemon, he's so handsome." Daenerys giggled as she gave Matthias to his father. "Jon, you're a father."

Jon merely looked at Matthias as much as he could, taking in every little detail. "I'm a father." He broke into a smile and gently kissed his son on his brow.

"You should try to feed them now," Gilly informed. "Boys are usually hungrier than girls."

"First, let's get a clean blanket for the bed." It wasn't until Jon said that that Daenerys realized how stained her blanket was with the waters from within her. Sam was kind enough to assist Gilly by helping her.

Now lying comfortably in the bread with a warm fur blanket, Daenerys, with Gilly's help, managed to latch her babies onto her breasts. She started to calm down as they suckled on her. Jon pulled the covers over her so that she wasn't exposing herself to all attending to her.

"Do you need anything?" Jon asked. "An extra blanket, water, anything?"

While relaxing would be nice right now, Daenerys couldn't forget that there may be hundreds of the dead within and without the castle. "I'll be alright for now. The best thing to do right now is to gather the dead."

Jon turned his gaze to the covered bodies in the corner, then saw Ser Jaime leaning on the doorframe next to Lady Brienne. "Aye, but get your wound taken care of first. Brienne, see to it that Ser Jaime is taken care of. When he is, I wish to speak with the two of you and Podrick."

"At once, Your Grace." Brienne took her leave with Ser Jaime as Ser Jorah and Ser Cole arrived.

"Khaleesi, we came as fast as we-" Ser Jorah fumbled in his words when he saw her in the bed with two tiny heads poking up into sight. "Are those…"

"Ser Jorah, Ser Cole, allow me to introduce you to the princes Matthias and Aemon of House Targaryen." They were still feeding, so she couldn't reveal them yet. "Where is Ser Lorimuss?"

"He fell in the courtyard protecting the King." Ser Jorah approached her side and knelt before her. "Are you feeling well?"

"Just tired is all," Daenerys replied. "But besides that, never better."

Jorah looked relieved to hear that. "On my life, I will do everything in my power to protect your sons, the princes. I swear to it as a Mormont of Bear Island."

Daenerys felt her heart warmed when Jorah said that. He always such a devotion to her. Even after his confession of his love for her in Vaes Dothrak, even though he knew she would never be his, he continued to love her knowing it could not be returned in such.

The sensation of her babes' suckling at her left her and Daenerys noticed that both of them had finished their meal. She managed to conceal herself and then revealed her babes to those who had come to the room.

"Would you like to hold one of them?" she asked.

Jorah looked surprised by the offer. "Are you sure, Khaleesi?"

She smiled at him. "I would be glad if you would."

Jorah removed his blood-stained gloves and took Aemon into his arms. "Silver hair of his mother, face like his father." He smiled down at the babe. "He'll be a strong lad." He glanced over at Matthias, continuing, "They both will be, the little dragonwolves." Then he returned Aemon to Daenerys and stood up. "With your permission and the King's, Ser Cole and I are going to the camps to assist how we can. Many of tents were set afire and there may be more loyalists concealing themselves."

"You will not go by yourselves I should hope. Find Ash Pile and organize the Unsullied to secure the castle and take who you need with you into the camps."

"By your command, my queen." Ser Jorah and Ser Cole swiftly left the room to go take care of business.

"We should organize gathering the dead as well," Jon reminded as he looked down at the covered corpses in the room.

"First, I need to be sure that Lord Tyrion and those in our service are alright." The thought especially of Missandei possibly being dead scared her. She was one of the few left alive she could call friend. "And what about your family, Jon?"

"Arya was with me in the courtyard, Bran is with Meera Reed, but Sansa and Rickon… I'm not sure where they are." He turned to some of the men in the hallway. "Find the Lord of Winterfell and Lady Sansa and bring them here. As of now, this is probably the safest part of the castle."

"At once, your grace." Lonnel Fenn replied, taking some of the men with him while a few remained to guard the room.

"The babies should be bathed now," Gilly told her. "I can do it while you rest."

One of the men in the room stepped forward. "I'll fetch some water for the babes, your grace." He left immediately.

Daenerys could feel her body was exhausted after performing the task of birth. She felt the desires of sleep, but at the same time, she felt afraid to let herself.

Jon somehow sensed this from her and came to her side. "What's wrong?"

"I'm afraid that if I fall asleep, this will all have been just a dream, and our children will be taken from me. I don't want to lose my children again."

Jon removed one of the gloves he was wearing and took her hand in his. "This isn't a dream, and I won't let anyone or any damned curse or gods take our sons from us. We're right here with you."

Daenerys looked down to her sons and saw they were both sound asleep, tuckered out from their meal. She kissed both of them on their warm cheeks and gave Aemon to Gilly and Matthias to Jon.

"Promise me, Jon. Promise me you'll still be here when I wake up."

"I promise, Dany."

Daenerys lay her head on the soft pillow and let her eyes fall over her, drifting away into a blissful sleep, hoping that it wouldn't be too long. She didn't want to wait to hold her children in her arms again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but the next one will definitely be summarizing many questions that will be raised.


	81. Jon XXII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Burgundyboy for the name of Jon's new sword
> 
> Gendry's New Hammer- https://www.deviantart.com/multirandomness21/art/Valyrian-Sword-Part-18-748567467

Jon

Saying that the day was chaotic was an understatement. Nearly a hundred people died within the walls of the castle amidst the wildfire and fighting and nearly the same amount were killed in the camps. Had the Dornish armies and Dothraki not reacted as fast as they did, then hundreds more would have been killed, maybe a thousand. But there were still casualties among the ranks of soldiers and even the families of great houses. The Brackens lost their heir, Lady Ramona Dondarrion succumbed to a wound she took and now her six-year-old son was to inherit the rule of House Dondarrion. Many were grieving for their loses while others were plotting for revenge. Those who wore the Lannister colors and were smart or had no part in this plot had thrown down their weapons and fell to their knees, but even then, there were some who could not escape the wrath of those that were angered.

In the castle grounds, it took about an hour to douse the wretched green flames of the wildfire. The explosions didn't cripple the castle, but there were many important parts that were destroyed. The forges and all the materials, including some Valyrian steel weapons and armor being made, were destroyed. There were about fifty men in the armory to take up arms against the loyalists when the second explosion happened. All the food in the storerooms was burned into ash and there were few in the Great Hall when the explosion that destroyed half of the Great Keep went off.

The amount of death and destruction was minuscule to the war with the Night King, and yet things were far worse. There was turmoil in the camps, many were still suffering from injuries. Cersei failed to have House Targaryen eradicated, but she succeeded in making things go beyond control.

But in the chaos, there were some moments of joy. Bran had woken and was back to being Bran according to him, and Daenerys safely birthed Matthias and Aemon.

The Lord's chambers were cleaned of the dead by now. Varys's body was taken to be prepared for his and many others' burials. Some of the servants who survived brought the unused Ironwood crib for the babies. Thought it was meant for one, it was big enough to fit both of the twins in it. They slept quietly during the wait for the Starks and Tyrion and Missandei to come. Sam and Gilly took Little Sam to another room with protection from Tarly bannermen.

Sansa and Rickon were brought by some of the guards. In Sansa's arms was a babe he only saw once but recognized as Arthur Dayne. Jon embraced his siblings when he saw them, relieved that they were safe. Accompanying them were the Dayne children. Sansa had been looking after them and protecting them how she could.

Jon knelt down to little Ashara and little Gerold. Both of them still mortified by the death of their mother and the attack. "Are you two hurt?"

"No." Ashara sniffed and wiped her tears away. "Are you the dragon king?"

"Uh… I am the King. My name's Jon, what's yours?"

"Ashara Dayne. Where's papa?"

"Your papa got hurt fighting off the bad people, but he'll be alright, I promise. But you're gonna stay here until it's safe, alright?"

Ashara nodded and clung to Sansa's dress.

Jon smiled warmly at her and looked behind him. "Do you see Ghost? He's going to keep you safe too."

Ashara finally showed a small smile, happy to see the direwolf.

Jon stood up facing Sansa. "I'll have the other crib brought in for Arthur. He can rest with the other babes."

"Other babes?" Sansa asked.

Jon smirked as he cocked his head back to the crib with his sons.

Sansa and Rickon both became surprised and amazed. They both walked over and beheld the sons of Jon and Daenerys.

"They're wonderful," Sansa said.

"And so pink," Rickon commented.

Sansa turned to Jon, smiling at him. "Father would be proud of you."

"Thank you, Sansa."

Ashara and Gerold stayed together and ended up falling asleep up against Ghost on the floor. Sansa took a seat near them while waiting for the other crib for Arthur to be brought. Rickon kept looking Jon's children, amazed.

When the crib was brought, one of the guards informed that Bran was going to be with Meera for quite some time until his presence with Jon was a necessity.

Tyrion had taken shelter in the godswood with Ser Davos and was saved by Bronn, Arya, and Gendry. He and Davos had come and all had relief that both Jon and Daenerys and their children were safe while Gendry and Arya were needed elsewhere for now.

Davos sat with Sansa, ready to help with the Dayne children since he had experience as a father while Tyrion took to talking with Jon.

Jon was sitting in a chair next to the crib his children slept in, unable to take his gaze away. He never adored something so much in his life before. This was all something new to him, something terrifying and at the same time calming.

"Is she hurt in any way?" Tyrion asked looking at Daenerys.

"Just tired," Jon replied. "She's earned the rest."

"I agree, but with everything going to shi-..." Tyrion glanced over to the Dayne children and back, "going very badly, her presence will be needed soon as will yours. Everyone will be looking to you for command and guidance, and many who suffered will be seeking your approval for vengeance."

"I'm not letting revenge be disguised as vengeance. There will be justice for those lost today. But I will not butcher men without a trial." Jon took a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts. "I will give them one chance and one chance only."

"May I ask how?"

Jon sighed as he shook his head. "I'm still working on that."

At this time, the door to the room opened and Missandei rushed inside with Qhono. She looked terrified at first when she saw Daenerys in the bed. "Your grace!"

"Shh," Jon shushed calmly. "She's fine, just resting." He gestured a hand to the crib with the babies in it. Missandei's worry turned into wonder and joy when she approached them in marvel.

Missandei turned to Jon and Tyrion. "They're beautiful. Congratulations, your grace."

"Thank you." Jon got up from his seat and offered it to her. "I have some things I need to take care of now. I would like my wife to wake up to her friends with her if I am not back by then."

Missandei smiled at him and sat with Tyrion. "Are you alright, my lady?" Tyrion asked.

"Just fine, Lord Tyrion," Missandei replied.

Jon retrieved his sword belt and tied it around him. "Ser Davos."

"Yes?"

"Send word to all the lords and ladies that we will all be gathering in the meeting hall tonight."

"Yes, your grace."

Before leaving, Jon took another look at his sons sleeping in their crib. He then approached Daenerys and gave her a light kiss on her brow. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He made for the door. "Qhono, come with me. Ghost, stay." With Ser Jorah and Ser Cole indisposed with their duties, Jon would still need a guard as a precaution.

Qhono nodded and followed Jon out of the room while Ghost remained, watching over those inside. They went to the room Sam and Gilly were in to make sure they were alright. Sam was free of injuries as far as Jon saw when he first saw him, but he looked distraught at something, most likely the death of his sister. Checking on his friend was the least Jon could do for him since he stood vigil to Daenerys in labor.

The Tarly bannermen stood at attention when they caught sight of Jon and Qhono approaching.

Giving a couple of knocks first, Jon called through the door. "Sam, may I come in." He could hear what sounded like recovery from crying.

"Yes, one moment," Sam replied.

It didn't take long until the door opened. Gilly was the one who opened it and allowed Jon and Qhono inside.

Sam was sitting on a bed, his eyes red from tears. Jon was the first to see Sam's sister dead body and witnessed when Melessa Tarly had broken down in front of everyone at the sight. Sam didn't cry then, but he was now and no one could blame him for it.

"I'm sorry about Talla, Sam. I never thought something like this would have happened. Is your going to be alright?"

Sam shook his head as his eyes fell to the ground. "My mother's dead, Jon. I only left her alone for a few minutes… and when I returned, someone had cut her throat like Talla."

Jon felt like someone stabbed a knife in his chest again. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry-"

"Your Grace!" Lord Royce appeared in the doorway, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword and the other over his heart. "Thank the seven you are alright. I and many others feared the worst when we couldn't find you."

Jon nodded assuredly to Lord Royce. "I'm alright. If you could give me a minute-"

"Jon, I want to be left alone if I could," Sam muttered.

Jon turned to Sam and could see that he was in a state of utter misery. He didn't want to leave a man he would call his brother alone to weep and mope, but one look from Gilly told him that she would be all Sam needed for now.

Jon nodded and went to leave, but glanced at Gilly before he did. "Thank you, for help my wife. If there's anything I can do, let me know."

Gilly smiled. "Thank you, Jon." She closed the door behind Jon and Qhono.

He didn't want to leave Sam, but maybe it was for the best. Sometimes being alone is all a person needed, but if anyone could help Sam feel better, it was Gilly.

"Forgive me for interrupting, your grace." Lord Royce said.

"It's alright. Do you have anything to report on of the condition of the camps and the Lannister bannermen?"

"The attacks have ceased and the Dornish combined with the Riverlands, the Vale, and Dothraki have surrounded the entirety of the Westerland armies and any others sworn to Cersei. Their arms and armor have been confiscated and have not a single man have a chance to even pick his nose without someone noticing. The dragons are causing a bit of unrest and fear among many. Remarkably though, they are keeping their distance. It seems a little unnatural after witnessing what I have about them."

Something, or rather someone, was keeping them at bay. "Who led the counter defense?"

"I and several others did, your grace."

"I'll not let your valor and loyalty be forgotten, Lord Royce. Keep them under confinement for now, but round up all the Lords and Generals to stand trial."

"A wise decision. May I inquire about the queen's condition? We've heard that many tried to kill her but failed."

Jon couldn't contain a bit of a smirk. "She's resting from the birth, my lord."

"The birth?" It took Lord Royce a moment before he finally realized the obvious. "My sincerest congratulations, your grace. Such a thing will help bring some light to repel all the dismay and sadness today. Also, you should know that the lord and Lady Baratheon are in need of you for an urgent matter."

"Thank you, my Lord," Things were calming down now, enough so that Jon felt he wouldn't need protection as much as he assumed. "Qhono, go with Lord Royce. Gather enough Dothraki to make sure the captives won't pose a threat."

Qhono bowed his head and followed after Lord Royce.

Now alone, Jon took his leave from inside the castle to the outside. He needed a moment to contemplate all that was happening. He walked along the walls, looking at the destruction that occurred within and without the castle. He leaned his fists on the battlements and gazed out to the last of the smoke that remained after dousing the tents that were lit aflame. He felt his fists tighten as the anger arose within him.

He was sick of the fighting, sick of the betrayals, the backstabbing, and the plotting, tired of the wars. He wondered if when all of it was over, regardless of whoever won the war for the Iron Throne, would it end there?

If he could have his way, he wouldn't have another battle. He would have thousands more die for victory, just one. The idea Davos had before all of this happened was something Jon was torn between saying yes and saying no. He would not have Cersei murdered in the night, he wouldn't stoop to her level. But if he didn't, then even if he came out on top of this war at the cost of the city, he would still lose.

Jon felt stuck. He couldn't wait any longer for this to end. He had to act as soon as he could. But at the same time, he wasn't sure if he could. Cersei only had an army the third the size of his. The Dothraki alone would be enough. But if he marched every abled soldier to King's Landing, would it remain or would Cersei destroy it all because she isn't willing to accept an honorable end.

Then again, her having a shred of desire for any kind of honor was ridiculous. She was a mad queen, the Mad Queen. If this was going to be her end, she would make sure it would not be forgotten, it would be a death so great it would be legendary.

He needed guidance but from the right person. He wished his father was here to help him, he wished Maester Aemon could provide the words he needed like he always did. Jon knew he had to do the right thing, he just wasn't sure what that was right now.

His thoughts were broken when a crier called out to all who could hear in the courtyard.

"Hear ye! Hear ye! On this day of winter, the Queen, Daenerys of the House Targaryen has given birth! We welcome the twin princes, Matthias Targaryen the first of his name and Aemon Targaryen the first of his name! Long live the heirs to the crown!"

After the man had announced that suddenly, the mood had instantly shifted. There was hope in the eyes of the people again. Hope that things would get better.

Jon longed for this to last. He would do everything he could to keep that hope there.

"I never thought it was possible for you to smile when you brood, " Arya said as she approached. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit of everything I think," Jon replied. "So many things have been happening today, and it's not even evening yet. You?"

"Same I suppose. Right now, I want nothing more than to burn Cersei alive in wildfire, give her a taste of what she loves doing these days. At the same time, I can't wait to go see your babies." She looked back to the castle and together they observed at the destruction that happened. There were areas of the stone foundation that was not just destroyed by the wildfire but melted like candle wax.

"Why is it that everyone wants to keep destroying our home?"

"Perhaps it's Winterfell's age," she suggested. When he gave her a confused look, she explained, "Well, it is the oldest of the castles in Westeros. Perhaps they feel we are in need of some...newness." But then she ended the joke with an impish grin.

Jon couldn't help himself as he pulled Arya into his arms and hugged her. She could have died today, any one of his siblings or family could have but they didn't. It only made things worse of what he had to ask of her soon.

"I was told you and Gendry had something important to tell me."

"Aye, he's waiting for us at the godswood."

Jon followed his sister to the entrance, but that was as far as they went. Gendry was waiting there for them.

"You wanted to see me?" Jon asked.

"The Valyrian swords I forged are gone."

"Destroyed in the explosion with the forges. Is there any chances more can be made soon?"

"No, they weren't destroyed in the wildfire, they were gone. If they melted, I would've found molten metal were they were like I did some of the other weapons, but there was nothing. A dozen swords are gone. I think they might've been stolen before the attack."

"You think," Jon stated. "Are you sure they weren't moved?"

"The only work I didn't have kept in the forges was the rest of your armor. I've had it put in your room this morning, and then there were two swords I made put aside in Tyrion's room just before the fighting started, and then my new hammer." Gendry moved his cloak and lifted up a massive war hammer. The design was similar to his original, but he had his own sigil on it in polished brass and the rest of the head was made entirely of Valyrian steel. Because of that, the head was also larger than normal, but his hammers were already larger than normal, to begin with. "Besides them, nothing else of what I or the other smiths have made has left the forge. But I figured the best way to find out was to ask Bran if he could see what happened."

"Then why do you need me?"

"If they were stolen, I'll need help taking them back. I've never let anyone steal from me in King's Landing and I'm not gonna let that happen here either." Gendry marched into the godswood with Arya and Jon following after him.

"He's starting to show his temper," Jon commented to Arya.

"Well, he is a Baratheon." Arya reminded,

Jon, Arya, and Gendry approached the weirwood slowly but stopped when he noticed Bran with Meera Reed. They talking with each other, Bran saying what he could to comfort Meera during her time of loss. In a sense, Jon envied her. She got to hear her father say goodbye to her. He never had that privilege with either of his nor his mother.

Meera noticed them and excused herself. Before she passed them, Jon stopped her. "Meera, I… I'm sorry that your father died that way."

"Don't worry," she told him. "He died smiling at me." She continued onward and left the three of them alone with Bran.

"Shouldn't be resting in bed?" Jon asked.

"I've been resting for too long," Bran said with an upset expression. "If I had only been awake, I could have stopped this happening. I could've saved them all" He was getting more frustrated with himself, which surprised Jon.

"What happened to you? You used to be… a dead man had more attitude than you, but now you're reminding me that you are a person again."

Bran chuckled as he shook his head. "If I could remember, I'd tell you. But know that I'm Bran again, not just the Three Eyed Raven."

"I never really understood it that much in the first place, but maybe it's for the best."

"Yes, it is. I saw your sons, I can see them now. They look just like you did as a baby. I'm happy for you and Daenerys, truly… but congratulations and small talk what you're here for, is it?"

"No, we need your help." Jon turned to Gendry.

"The Valyrian swords I was working on are missing from the forge, and I'm certain that they weren't destroyed. I think they might've been stolen."

Bran seemed to look out in the distance at nothing, his facial expression kept changing as if he was having a conversation in his mind. "You're right, they were stolen before the wildfire was set off. The thieves who took them are bannermen of Ser Devan Lannister, they're taking them to Cersei."

"Dammit!" Gendry shouted. "How far away are they?"

"Twenty miles from here, you can't catch them."

"I can," Jon said, "I'll take Rhaegal and intercept them. Can you show the way?"

Bran nodded. "I'll lead you with my flock of ravens. You'd best hurry."

"I don't think there's a horse that can outrun a dragon."

"I wasn't talking about them." Bran looked concerned. "The dragons are growing angry, so much I don't think have a chance to keep them at bay. You need to go and calm them."

Another thing to worry about. Jon turned to leave, but then he had an epiphany. "Bran, tonight, the lords of the Westerlands are going to be brought before the lords of Westeros, and I need to know which ones were involved with today. Can you help me with that."

"Yes, of course," Bran said, agitated, "now go!"

Jon cracked a smile. "It's good to have you back, brother." He took his leave from the godswood after getting the last word in he needed.

A screech from the dragons caught Jon's attention as he ran through the gates. He looked out to their nesting area and saw them growing more violent, so much that they might try to unleash fire on the other. He ran as fast as he could through fresh snow to reach the dragons. The ground was started to shake from Drogon's thrashing about and the sound Rhaegal's voice was deafening to hear.

Jon stood before them with his arms up, showing no fear to them even though he could be crushed and killed. "Enough!"

The three dragons all turned their attention to him. Drogon slowly crept forward and loomed over Jon. Being so close, the black and red dragon was like a mountain. Drogon lowered his head and snuffed smoke at Jon. Ever since his leg healed as much as it could, Drogon had been more aggravated than he already was. There was a large scar that looked like it pulsed with pain.

Jon removed his gloves and reached his hand out. He lightly touched Drogon's snout. He could feel the turmoil within the dragon. Drogon was angry and afraid. The anger was expected, but the fear was something Jon never imagined this particular dragon to feel.

"It's alright," Jon assured the three dragons. "It's alright. Daenerys is alright. Our children… your brothers are alright. We're safe now." Jon needed to calm the dragons down as best he could, so he did what he would for Ygris and Lyarras.

"Though the winds of winter blow

They will never scare the crow

Never shall we knock Death's door

For the lands above we'll soar

When the King came striking down

Our steel did break his crown

His touch turned all to ice

In the snows was his demise

And then the skies did fill with light

Our brothers have won the fight

The fires of the dawn had come

And the colds of winter undone

Then the one who was lost shall win

And the greatest of ages shall begin

When all finds peace in the end

The world forever we'll defend

The wolves will howl and the dragons cry

Through fire and ice together we'll fly."

The anger and fear died from Drogon. His growling became a heavy purr of sorts. Even though his eyes were intimidating to look at, there was peace within them. He backed away and turned from Jon, taking a great many leaps before spreading his wings and taking to the skies alone.

Rhaegal and Lyarras remained with Jon. He reached out his bares hands and stroked the muzzles of their heads. "I'm sorry for all this. It's my fault for thinking something like this wouldn't happen. I guess I expected too much from someone." He looked at Rhaegal deep in the eyes. "I think it's time you had your share of the fight," Rhaegal growled out before lowering his body for him to climb on. Stepping lightly until he was positioned and had a firm grip, Jon braced himself for flight. "Valahd."

Rhaegal screeched out and began to jump forward, spreading his wings and flapping clouds of snow before taking flight. Lyarras followed after them closely. The dragons sored low to the ground at first, flight just a giant's height above the camps before climbing higher into the sky.

Jon caught sight of Bran's ravens and Rhaegal sensed his intentions. He no longer had to warg into his dragon to fly, he finally had an understanding of the bond he shared with Rhaegal.

On a horse, twenty miles would have been an hours ride, but on a dragon, it was mere moments.

Jon spotted a riding party of thirty men going over a hill on the Kingsroad. They took notice of Rhaegal and Lyarras and split up, but it wouldn't do them much good. The flock of ravens split into four groups and followed four of the riders, the four that had the swords. Lyarras split off from Rhaegal and pursued the other horsemen.

Jon began thinking of ways to defeat the riders and get the blades back, but instead, he decided otherwise. "Better in no hands than the wrongs hands." He tightened his grip on Rhaegal as he began diving closer to two of the riders. "Dracarys!" Rhaegal unleashed his fire down onto the riders. The sounds of the men screaming were as loud as the horses whining as they were roasted alive. Rhaegal continued his stream of flames as he circled the ground. Doing this, he created a wall that steered another group from escaping.

Lyarras, on the other hand, dove low to the ground and snatched a rider off his horse with her mouth, ripping through his armor and clothes, devouring him. Her presence frightened some of the other horses into grouping together, making them easy targets as she breathed fire on them.

With the power and speed of the dragons, the riders nor their horses had any chance of escape. It wasn't long until the hills were littered with dying dragonfire, snow blacked by ash and soot, and charred corpses of men and horses.

Rhaegal and Lyarras landed in the middle of the massacre, but Jon did not dismount. Looking at it all only made him angry. Even if these men were not pursued by dragons, the Dothraki would have caught up to them. They had no chance and still, they tried, all for some swords.

Jon's fists clenched hard at his side. Seeing it all made him feel dishonorable in a way. Fighting the dead and the Night King, he never realized how easy it was for the dragons to kill, and he had two at his command. It went against what his father taught him.

' _The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.'_

Could a dragon's fire be counted as a sword if he was the one commanding it?

Looking around, Jon could see what remained of the Valyrian Steel swords and it wasn't much. The dragonfire cooked the metal to the point of melting and the scorched ground had hardened puddles of steel. They might be salvageable, but he wouldn't be able to do anything about it right now. "Let's go home."

The flight back to Winterfell was faster than it took to get to the hills. Rhaegal and Lyarras remained in their nest, but Drogon kept flying in the skies around the castle. Jon informed Gendry of the fate of the swords and later planned to have what remained retrieved and salvaged if possible.

Needing some time alone to think, and some time to clean his sword of the blood still staining the blade from the attack, Jon took to the godswood again. Bran was gone when he came back. It was just him.

Sitting at the foot of the weirwood, Jon ran a cloth down the blade, cleaning what little blade remained, his gaze went deep inside the black ripples of the steel. His thoughts drifted to when he fought with it for the first time. Throughout the battle, he could feel something about the sword, something powerful that both entranced and scared him. The way the blade moved in his hands was a beautiful thing. It did everything he wanted it to do.

"For a moment I thought you father's ghost," Arya said as she approached him.

"He always seemed so calm when he polished Ice here. Though I might give it a try."

Arya sat down next to him. "You don't seem calm though. You seem sad."

"I'm not sad… I just tired of all this. How many more have to die for someone else's stupid desires?"

"If you're tired, then maybe you should write to Cersei and agree to her demands," Arya said bluntly. She didn't mean it, of course, only to prove a point she was about to make. "Men fight for others because they believe in them. The cunts who attacked us today believe that Cersei isn't the Mad Queen she is, but everyone else who fights for you believes that your the one to lead them against her, to free the country from shit like her. Are you going to betray their hopes in you?"

Jon shook his head. "Never." He set the cloth aside and inspected the clean blade.

"Have you thought of a name yet?"

"No, I haven't really had any names come to mind lately."

"How about something like Dragonclaw or Winterfyre? Give it a part of what the swords that made it were called."

Jon thought about it, but this sword was something else entirely. But his mind lingered on the use of Winter. But that wasn't the entirety. A sword born in the longest winter since the Long Night. Jon took hold of the handle with his bare hand and felt a resonance in the sword. He felt he could hear something from the blade through the touch of his skin, he felt he could be the metal singing.

"It's called Wintersong."

"Wintersong? A menacing sword like that?" Arya shrugged her shoulders. "Could've been worse, but now that I say it, it fits. Wintersong."

Jon got up to his feet and sheathed the sword back into the scabbard before tying the belt back on.

"Come on, I haven't seen your babes yet and I want you to introduce me to them."

Jon smiled, but it died quickly as Arya took several steps away.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Arya, I need you to meet me in the crypts tonight, at father's tomb, and I also need you to bring the Hound."

"What for?"

"I can't tell you yet. We may be alone, but that won't stop words from being heard by unwanted ears. Trust me, please."

"I do." Arya nodded.

Back in the Lord's Chambers, Jon sat at Daenerys side while she slept. He watched as Arya and Sansa would take turns holding Matthias. Aemon remained asleep but earned the attention of Ashara Dayne. Both of his children were dressed in the clothes Sansa made for them.

Tyrion and Ser Davos took their leave to help prepare for the meeting and would await Jon's arrival when it was to begin.

Jon held Daenerys hand in his as she slept, the feeling of her skin calmed him down. Aemon began to fuss as he began to wake. Jon left the presence of his wife and took his son into his arms, rocking him until he quieted down.

As he sat back down, Jon failed to notice a hand reaching out to Aemon. Daenerys woke up just as they did.

Jon smiled as she did. "Feeling better?"

"Very much so." Daenerys sat herself up and leaned into Jon to look at their son. Aemon's silver hair began to show more, catching the light and reflecting it constantly. His eyes were pale blue of a morning sky, but they could change into Jon's brown or Daenerys's violet color after a few moons have passed.

There was knock on the door that caught everyone's attention before in stepped one of the Winterfell guard. "Apologies, your grace, but the meeting is about to begin."

"Aye, thank you."

"Meeting? What meeting?" Daenerys asked.

Jon handed Aemon to his mother and she began to rock him in her arms. "It's time for this war to come to end, the sooner the better. I'll be back."

"Please be quick."

"I will. I promise." Jon gave his wife a deepened kiss before he left with Rickon, Arya, and Sansa.

The light of day was waning as they left the castle to the camps. The three of them were under the protection of a dozen Unsullied and just as many Northmen. But the meeting hall had more protection than ever before. Eight of the giants stood watch with large clubs in their hands and lined up in between each of them were twenty Unsullied at attention. Inside was just as secure. Unsullied stood guard at the front of the seating for the Lords in attendance while Dothraki and Northerners stood guard over Jon and the Starks.

All the Lords except for those from the Westerlands, save for Ser Jaime, were seated inside. Many of them conversing with the one another. There were some who were absent from the meeting, either dead or too injured to come. The Dornish and Northerners were especially riled.

Lord Tyrion and Ser Davos were already seated at the High Table but arose when Jon and the Starks.

Jon took his seat with Tyrion at his Right and Ser Davos at his left facing all of the Lords. Bran had arrived before they did and was seated with Rickon.

"Nice of you to join us." Ser Davos commented.

"Anything to report?"

"Aye. Some of the bodies that were found were identified as bannermen of Houses Marbrand, Spicer, Lorch, Clegane, Lannister, and a dozen knights. But given that The Hound and Ser Jaime fought against them, I think it's safe to assume that these men were acting under someone else's orders."

"Unfortunately," Tyrion said, "any evidence of whom could not be found."

"I already have a plan for that." Jon waited for everyone to quiet down before he stood up from his seat and spoke. "Today, we have suffered from a great treachery inflicted on us all. Though a truce was made, Cersei Lannister saw fit to break by ordering many of those still loyal to her to attack and sabotage and thieve. But in those darkened hours, their lights of courage, loyalty, and selflessness. Lady Brienne, Podrick Payne, step forward."

Both Brienne and Podrick looked confused as to why Jon would call them, but answered accordingly and stood before Jon and the Lords of the realm.

"The two of you have shown valor and bravery in a most crucial time. You protected the innocent against conspirators and traitors. You have both shown me more than enough to be what the realm truly needs. Draw your swords and kneel."

Brienne bent the knee as she drew Oathkeeper and rested the tip into the floor as Podrick did the same with his sword.

"Brienne of House Tarth, Podrick of House Payne, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"

"Until my death, I swear it," Brienne said.

"Until my death, I swear it," Podrick repeated.

"Then on this night, I bestow upon you the titles of knights of Westeros."

Both Brienne and Podrick did their best to contain their joy to themselves. Podrick failed to hide a smile but Brienne remained composed but proud.

"You may be seated." The two knights sheathed their swords and took their seats, many who surrounded them cheered and congratulated them.

"Your grace," one of the lords called out as he stood up.

"I'm afraid I don't know you," Jon admitted.

"My name is Ser Baelor Hightower, Lord of Oldtown. My Father fought and died against the dead." One of many fathers' who did. "While we were in more ways triumphant, there was still a loss. It has become known to us that Lady Melessa was murdered during the attack. And with her Death, House Tarly has no heir and the Reach no Lord or Lady Paramount. I have taken the liberty of conversing-"

"Forgive my interruption, my lord, but there's still a Son of House Tarly. He sits right there." Jon pointed directly at Sam. "The firstborn of Randyll Tarly and rightful heir to Hornhill."

"Your grace, Samwell Tarly forfeited his claims when he chose to take the black. His own father disowned him. 'He will never be worthy of the red hunter' I believe the words were."

"Who determines that worth? His father? You?" There was a still silence. "Of all the time I've known Samwell Tarly, he has proven to be a better man than most who sit in this room. And his worth? Sam was the first man in thousands of years to kill a White Walker, he has the qualities of a true knight and has served under the Night's Watch faithfully and loyally. The Night King and his army are defeated. I and Lord Commander Eddison Tollett have released Sam of his vows, given that he has more than fulfilled them." Jon looked back at Sam. "But I will leave the choice to him."

All eyes turned to Sam as he stood up nervously. He cleared his throat and stood straight. "House Tarly is not dead yet, and I will not shame my family's name like my father thought I would. I am Lord of Hornhill now, and I will lead my men to battle when called upon by the King. And I swear this to all of you, the Red Hunter of House Tarly will be seen at King's Landing to fight and win against the Mad Queen's army."

There was an uproar of cheers for Sam. He wore a face of determination, but Jon knew him long enough to tell that he was nervous. Sam and Baelor Hightower sat down when things quieted down.

"Ser Jaime, come forward." Jaime Lannister looked more nervous at this. He sat himself away from everyone as much as he could. Many eyes were filled with hate towards him, either for being the leading commander of those who attacked or just for his family's name, maybe even both. He presented himself before Jon.

"You above all have my thanks today. You defended the Queen and my children at the willingness to give your life for them. You are a different man than when you first came here, a man I would gladly stand beside in war. From this day, until your last day, I hereby strip you of titles as Oathbreaker, Man without Honor, and Kingslayer. You are Ser Jaime Lannister, the Lord of Casterly Rock and the Westerlands and Warden of the West."

Ser Jaime was shocked and also relieved, but not in the sense that something bad was going to befall him, but relieved of a weight on his shoulder. For more than half his life, he was shamed by all for betraying his vows to do the right thing.

"Your grace, I… thank you for this." Some of the hateful looks disappeared, but only some.

Jon could feel Tyrion looking directly at him and caught a glimpse of him through the corner of his eye. Tyrion was just as surprised and just as grateful for this.

"I believe that men earn what they work for, and you have worked greatly for this. But now, I would ask that you stand beside me and judge those who not only betrayed a truce but betrayed their rightful lord." Jon nodded to one of the Unsullied awaiting his signal and it wasn't long after that the Lords of the Westerlands and some of their generals were escorted inside and brought before everyone. All of them were disarmed and disrobed of any armor.

Many of those who suffered loss this day shouted out insults to them.

"Oathbreakers!"

"Traitors!"

"Mad servants!"

Most of the Westerlands lords were angry while others looked afraid. Jon stood from his seat and walked in front of the accused, silencing the crowd. "Some of you played a part in today's treachery, some of you didn't. What I do know is that those who were responsible were following the orders of your queen. So I will extend this offer once, in the name of mercy. Any who admit their guilt may bend the knee and serve House Targaryen or will be honored by the truce and allowed to return home with their armies or join with Cersei, but in doing so they will be branding themselves as traitors and oathbreakers to their rightful liege lord, Ser Jaime. Any who do not admit their guilt at that time will be executed immediately when found discovered. Now make your choices."

Many of the lords looked at each other, unsure of who was going to take the offer. Surely enough, six men stepped forward, but only Raynard Ruttiger and Arthor Payne bent the knee to Jon.

"Your grace," Arthor Payne, an elderly man with a patch of white hair on his head spoke, "I only acted out of fear for my family and my House."

Jon eyed the other lords. "Anyone else?" When no one else stepped forward to admit their guilt, Jon nodded and the six men were taken aside by the Unsullied. "Then your chance for mercy is gone." Jon looked back at Bran and nodded.

"Rolph Spicer," Bran spoke, "Lorent Lorch, Addam Marbrand, Tytos Prester," he continued on to name several others, all of whom were shocked and taken off guard when they heard their names. When Bran finished, the Unsullied forced the named individuals to the knees and those that were not were allowed to be seated.

"This is ridiculous!" Lorent Lorch shouted. "You have no proof!"

"A brother who can see everything at any time is all the proof he needs," Ser Jaime Lannister retorted to his bannerman.

"Daven Lannister," Jon called, not forgetting who's men committed theft. Two of the Unsullied grabbed ahold of a man with a great long long golden beard and long golden hair. He looked well into his years until he was looked at up close. "You stand accused of conspiracy and involvement in the theft of Valyrian Steel rightfully belonging to Gendry Baratheon. How do you plea?"

Before the Lord said anything, Jon caught a look that passed between the Lannister brothers. He couldn't discern what it was until a confident look crossed Jaime's face. Then, Daven merely shrugged. "Not guilty."

Jon looked back at Bran and was surprised at the response. "His men stole them, but he didn't order them. In fact, Cersei had no idea about the Valyrian steel. Those men stole them of their own decision."

At that, Jon could hear the breath that Jaime exhaled. Obviously, he really hadn't been that sure of the truth. Now, however, he looked back at Devan, as the man explained further. "If you expected me to ally with a mad bitch like her, then I'm not surprised actually. But no, fuck her. I may be a Lannister, but I have common sense. And she killed my sister when she destroyed the Great Sept of Baelor. If my men decided to change their loyalties, say the word and I'll kill them all myself."

Jon was surprised as were a great many. "I didn't expect this if I'm being honest."

"I'm a practical man, your grace. But don't get me wrong. If Lord Tywin was still alive and commanded this, I would follow his orders because I respected him and had not a single doubt about what he did. But he's dead, and a rabid lioness now sits on the Iron Throne. I imagine that the longer she does, the sooner all of our deaths will come if we don't stand together." He honest at least.

"You would forsake fealty to her and pledge for me?"

Daven almost laughed out loud. "Promises from Cersei are like promises from a captain telling you his ship is the mightiest vessel to sail on the fourteen seas when it's already sunk in water." That jape got a rise out of a great many laughs from those who watched.

Jon studied the golden-haired man for any trace of doubt from him. "I will not punish for the actions of your men, but you are at fault for them getting out of hand. You may take a seat with the other lords."

Devan bowed politely with a grin before being escorted away.

Jon looked over to one of his guards. "Fetch a block and basket for the heads."

"This is unjust!" Lorent Lorch spat. "A cripple simply saying so does prove that we were involved!"

One of the men broke into a sprint for the door, managing to get past the Unsullied. But the moment he set foot outside, a giant's hand reached down and grabbed him off the ground. There was a loud scream but it was ended suddenly by a loud splat. The body was tossed back into the hall but the top half was like a sack of loose meat.

Some of the lords and ladies watching covered their mouths to contain their vomit while the rest of the guilty began begging for mercy.

Jon ignored their rabbles and began to draw his sword, but Jaime stopped him.

"Your grace, with all due respect, these are my men, my responsibility."

"Ser Jaime, if I pass the sentence, then I must be the one to carry it out. That is the old way, that is my way."

"I know, but I am just as much fault for today's treason happening. My father once taught me that if a soldier lacks discipline then the fault lies in his commander. Say what you will about him, but the authority he had over his army was greatest in the world. If it pleases you, I shall sentence them and swing the sword myself." There was a glint in Jaime's eyes now, something of the man who had come to Winterfell all those years ago. "That is how you do it up here, the one who passes the sentence, will execute it? In honor of your way and the way of your family and the way of your lands."

Jon looked at him curiously. He was not wrong when he said that Ser Jaime wasn't the same. He nodded and stepped back, allowing Ser Jaime to take charge and responsibility.

Ser Jaime drew Widow's Wail and rested the tip on the floor and his good hand on the pommel. He looked back to Jon. "Which name shall I use for the sentencing, Jon or Aegon?" Jon would have once taken the question as a sneer, but there was genuine sincerity when he asked it.

Jon never thought about this until then, but how would he be addressed as King in court and dealings of the realm. He didn't care personally, but he knew that it did matter. Should he continue on as Jon, former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and King in the North, or as Aegon, King of Westeros and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms?

' _Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Kill the boy, and let the man be born.'_

"Aegon."

Ser Jaime nodded and faced those who betrayed the trust of many this day. "In the name of Aegon of the House Targaryen, the Sixth of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realms, I Ser Jaime of the House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, sentence you all to die."

Ser Jaime stayed true to his word and took the heads of every man who betrayed the truce. The swing of his sword was a strange kind each execution. His leaned forward and forced his body low, but doing that gave him the momentum and force he needed to take heads in one

swing without the use of his right hand.

The blood that spilled stained the floor, but was cleaned accordingly and the bodies were taken away.

After it was over, Jon let the hallway disperse and remained with his family inside. "Sansa, Rickon, the two of you will be staying here in Winterfell to oversee the North. Our food stores are nothing but ash, I need you two to help replenish them and help keep order while we're gone. Bran, I need you to come with us. We'll need your abilities to form a battle strategy and root out any unwanted ears." Bran nodded in acceptance. "I'll also be leaving five hundred men here, in case Cersei tries to send an attack while we're gone."

"What about me?" Arya asked.

"I told you, later tonight-" there was a sudden commotion outside that caught everyone's attention.

Jon and Arya rushed outside as fast as they could and already found the Unsullied handling things. Ser Jaime was lying in the snow with a cut across his arm. It wasn't deep and bled lightly. Across from him, pinned down on the ground by Ser Bronn was Tyene Sand with a dagger. The Unsullied surrounded all three of them with their spears pointed down.

Tyene was struggling to be free of Bronn's grip and shouting out. "Let me kill him! Let me avenge my sisters!"

Jon didn't know much about Tyene or the Sand Snakes, but he was told that the girls that were killed and brought into the castle were Tyene's full blooded sisters.

Bronn slapped her hard across the face. "Listen here, I saved you because I like fuckin' you. But until I'm eating and fuckin in my own castle, you don't get kill him. His sister doesn't get to kill him. Only I get to kill him."

Jon stepped into the fray and all eyes were on him. He looked to some of the Unsullied. "Take her to a cell and clasp her in irons." The Unsullied seize Tyene from Bronn and disarmed her of three other blades she had hiding in her clothes.

Before they left, however, the sellsword grabbed at a necklace the young assassin and his would-be lover wore, yanking it away from her throat. He nodded his head and she was led away.

"Best take a slug of this, my lord. The nick won't kill ya' but I'd bet all the gold you owe that the blade was poisoned," he said.

Jaime didn't hesitate to drink what Bronn gave him. "Well, there goes your highborn beauty, bastard though she was," Jaime commented.

Bronn merely shrugged. "No doubt that's she's probably as good as dead now. But luckily for me, you owe me again for savin' your rich arse." Bronn patter Jaime on the shoulder and walked away.

Jon approached Ser Jaime while keeping his gaze on Bronn. "I've met murders and rapists at the Wall with more decency for life than him."

"I think he enjoys that about himself. I know it is what my brother does," Jaime told him. Then he smirked. "But don't fall for the entire act. Under the greed, cynicism and bawdy sense of humor, there is a sliver of honor to the man."

Jon shook his head and looked at the wound Jaime took. "Get that patched up, and then later tonight I need to speak with you in private. You and Brienne."

Ser Jaime looked confused. "What for?"

"I'll tell tonight, in the crypts at my father's tomb."

Jaime visibly shuddered. Ned Stark still had that effect on him, even with the blemish on his honor removed. "Not the first place I would want to meet but definitely not the last." Jaime nodded and took his leave to find a maester.

Jon returned to the Lord's chamber. Daenerys was with Missandei and each of them had one of the babes in their arms. Both of the babes were asleep, breathing softly.

"I'm glad you're back," Daenerys admitted. "I hope there isn't anything else to take you away from your children tonight."

"Unfortunately, just one more thing tonight. And then tomorrow, I need to handle a would-be assassin."

"Someone tried to kill you?" Shock and worry present in her voice.

"Not me, Ser Jaime. Tyene Sand wanted vengeance for her murdered sisters. I almost don't blame her for trying. They were all just children." Jon felt his fists tighten as he sat next to her on the bed.

"After that, we need to prepare to march for the capital."

"It will take at least a fortnight."

"No, I want us marching in six days."

"Six days?"

"The sooner this war over, the sooner I can feel safe living. As long as Cersei is alive, I have to worry that a dagger is coming for your throat and our children's. If that were to happen… I won't let it." He felt a hand take his.

"I am your Queen, Jon. I can take care of Tyene Sand with Tyrion while you prepare for the war. But you need time with your sons. Have you even looked for the tiny differences between them besides the obvious ones?"

"No," Jon chuckled, "I have not."

"Aemon has a slightly bigger nose than Matthias, but smaller ears. And Matthias tends to be quieter than his brother." She smiled down at Aemon in her arms, rocking him gently.

Missandei stood up and passed Matthias to Jon. "Shall I excuse myself, your grace?" she asked.

"You may. Have a good night my friend," Daenerys told her. Missandei smiled at the both of them and left.

Jon wished he could spend the rest of his life at this moment with just them, but as the night darkened and the moon began to rise, he had one last thing to take care of.

Within the crypts, Jon gazed up at the statue of his mother, the only image he had to know what she looked like. He memorized every part of her he could, regardless of how accurate it was.

' _Am I the man you hoped I would become? Am I what you and Rhaegar hoped for?'_  He reached his hand out and felt the stone cheek of the statue, hoping it would give him some comfort, but it didn't. It only made him long for a moment with her, just one so he could see her in person.

Jon heard the sounds of footsteps approaching and left his mother's tomb and stood by his uncle's, though he would always regard Ned Stark as his father.

Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne came into the light of Jon's torch. Close behind them was Arya and Sandor Clegane.

"Your grace," Brienne said with a bow.

"Thank you all for coming," Jon told them. "This war with Cersei has become too much. She's beyond madness, whatever that is. Regardless, it can't go on. As long the wildfire is under King's Landing, I can't march our armies to fight the sellswords, not while Cersei can give the order to have it ignited. The only way I see that we can win the war and save the city is if we kill Cersei before we make the attack."

The only one who looked surprised by this was the Hound, but at the same time, he expected it. "And since you're telling us, it means we're the ones you sending off to do it."

"I wouldn't ask any of you to do something I'm not willing. And I thought you wanted to settle the score with your brother."

Sandor shook his head. "I was hoping it would be on the battlefield. Fine, what's your plan."

"You, Arya, and Brienne will accompany me to Red Keep while Ser Jaime will lead the armies to King's Landing."

"No." Jaime stated definitively, "I cannot be the one leading the army."

Jon was going to protest when Ser Jaime went on. "I know what you are thinking. This is not the honorable move, to sneak into the city and assassinate a queen, but you are willing to do it yourself, sully your precious Stark honor." Jon's face must have given up his thoughts, because next, the knight said, "It is not a king's job to do it. And you are a king. Besides, it won't work. You're expecting them to honor things like rules and codes just like Ned Stark did before he unexpectedly was sentenced to death. If you try to kill Cersei, you'll no doubt raise alarms. And if you kill her or not, you will get captured and you would be the perfect hostage against those who've bent the knee to you."

"If we can kill your sister before you arrive, then there will be no need for a battle. The sellswords will have lost their contractor and will have no choice but to surrender."

"So we do it when our armies arrive," Arya suggested. "Empty the city of everything Cersei can through at us and then make the kill."

"That'll work," Jaime agreed, "but not if he is there." He pointed at Jon. "If Cersei is told that the King is not at the head of his own army, she'll suspect something." There was a bitter silence. "I'll go instead of you."

"Ser Jaime," Brienne said, "I don't think that is wise."

"It's wiser than you think. I know of passageways hidden in the walls of the Red Keep. I used to use them to meet with Cersei. We can sneak through and while everyone is focused on the dragons and the Dothraki and soldiers of Westeros…" He paused in his words, almost ashamed to say what was next. "... we kill her."

"It's not right unless I'm the one to do it." Jon objected.

"Yes, yes. As we've established tonight, the one who passes the sentence and so forth. I respect the traditions of my king and North, but Cersei isn't in, nor of, the North." He looked to the ground now, as he came to a grim conclusion. "She is my sister. I will see the job done."

"I doubt you will," Arya argued. "So if you don't I will. I have more right to kill her than any of you. She was one of the first names on my list. But if Jon wishes it to be done your way then I will honor that."

All eyes fell onto Jon, waiting for his say. He took a deep breath to prepare himself for his orders. "Then I charge you all with bringing justice to the false Queen, Cersei Lannister, under the command of Ser Jaime Lannister."


	82. Jaime VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait. the holiday and Life have been taking my focus away and neither has been going well, unfortunately. Short chapter, but it gets things moving. Next one will be longer and here sooner. Going to aim for one chapter a week

Jaime

  


With the new orders issued to the armies, everyone was pulling three times their weight to prepare for the march on King’s Landing.

Jaime, however, found it difficult. Even though the possessions he would be taking with him ahead of the armies were very few, he had his own battle going on within himself.

Almost all his life, everything he did, every action he took, was for Cersei. He stayed Kingsguard to be with Cersei, he murdered dozens for Cersei, he sacrificed everything he had for Cersei. But then she betrayed him, then she killed their child.

And now here he was, meant to be preparing his things to go and kill her. It’s not like he hadn't killed his own kin before. He killed his cousin Alton trying to escape Robb Stark. Then again, she wasn’t free from that sin as much as Tyrion was. She killed Uncle Kevan and cousin Lancel when she destroyed the Great Sept of Baelor. They were all a family of kinslayers.

It would still be a long wait until nightfall. The King was kind enough to grant those leaving a day to prepare.

Jaime waited by the window, looking out to the camps and the ruined parts of the castle. The camps were bustling with people going to and from places like a hive of ants on their hill. The castle was still being searched for anything salvageable from the wildfire, although the efforts of that were probably to be in vain.

“I see that the King's brooding has rubbed off on you,” Tyrion said.

Jaime turned and saw his brother walking through the doorway.

“Before you go, would you care to join me for some wine? I have some left over from a little celebration after the battle at the Wall.” 

Perhaps wine would do good for his mood. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.” 

Jaime followed Tyrion to his room and wasn’t surprised when he found Bronn and Podrick Payne waiting for them. “Ah, the heroes of Blackwater Bay. Such an honor for you to grace my lowly brother and me with your presence.” 

“If anyone’s gracing our presence it’s the knight of the magic cock. Or are you the slayer of mermaids now? I’ve seen him with the Manderly girl more times than once.” 

Podrick turned bright red when Bronn mentioned that. 

“Ser Podrick,” Tyrion said snidely, “do give us details.” He retrieved a horn for himself and Jaime. “Copious details.” He poured some green wine and took a drink. 

“My lord…” Podrick straightened himself. “Her name’s Wylla.” 

“Wylla Manderly, the one with the green hair?” Jaime inquired. “She’s a pretty young thing.” 

“That she is,” Bronn agreed, "but how is she in the bed?” 

“I swore not to tell, and I am a knight now, so I will not forsake my promise.” He smirked at all of them and took a drink of the wine. 

“However good she is, you can’t a Dornish at fuckin’. They do things you’ve never imagine possible.” Bronn looked disappointed for an instant, almost regretting that he lost his Dornish bride. 

“Cheer up, Ser Bronn,” said Tyrion. “I’ve convinced our King and Queen to wait until Sarella Sand arrives from Oldtown. I sent the raven last night and we should be receiving her by the next full moon. Pod, if you could get the good knight’s payment.” 

Podrick smirked as he rushed out the door with a jump in his steps. 

“There’s not enough gold in your dried up mines to compensate a Dornish woman that knows how to fuck like her.” Bronn retorted as he took a swig of wine. 

“The mines are not dry,” Tyrion replied, annoyed. “I had someone look into places my father never bothered with and it proved fruitful. The veins that were found could possibly last another hundred years. And I plan to have Castamere emptied of the water my father flooded it with. Those mines rivaled Casterly Rock’s and have as much silver as they do gold.” 

“Castamere?” Bronn leaned in with an interest. “Now that’s a mighty castle when it’s not flooded with water and corpses of Reynes.” 

“Don’t you already have a castle? The Twins will make you a rich man.” 

“Never really liked the Riverlands. And Twins are surrounded by swamps, shit, and rivers. Castamere, on the other hand, has fields, hills, and mines. And if I recall, you owe me for saving your arse, again.” 

“He does owe you.” Tryion agreed. “But luckily, I am willing to help support this debt with something you might find worth just as equal a payment.” 

Podrick returned with a sword in his hands. It was of the same shape and design of Bronn’s original before he lost it at the Blackwater, but this one had flaming arrows carved into the guard and the Twins in the pommel. 

Bronn stood up and inspected the hilt. “Handle’s a bit wider than before, but the rest is the same. Only problem is unless you have a thousand more castle-forged steel swords, there’s still quite a debt to pay.” 

“That sword is castle forged, but this steel is far more valuable than just a thousand swords.” 

Bronn was confused until he drew the blade out of the scabbard and beheld a Valyrian steel blade. His eyes widened as he removed the rest of the blade and held the sword in his hand. 

“You did say you always wanted one if I recall,” Jaime told him. 

“Oh aye, that I did. Not my first time holding one though.” 

“What will you call it?” Podrick asked. 

“Magic Cock, after you.” Bronn japed. “Don’t worry Pod, just a joke. This sword shall be named after our good friend, the Hand of the King and Queen himself.” 

Tyrion scoffed at Bron. “If you ever name a sword after me, wouldn’t be better for it to be a shortsword?” 

“You think too little of yourself. I wasn’t going to call it Imp Slayer or Dwarf’s Revenge or anything like that. I had a different name in mind, I just can’t remember it.” He twirled the sword in his hand fluidly. “What was it that angry town crier called you when you were Hand to Joffrey?” 

“Oh please, not that-” 

“Demon Monkey, that’s it!” 

Jaime was in the middle of sipping his wine, but hearing that made him spurt it out and choke on laughter. 

“This sword shall be forever known as Demon Monkey.” 

“Oh, how I hate you so.” Tyrion chuckled with everyone else. 

Bronn sheathed Demon Monkey back into its scabbard and set it against his chair. “A real beauty. Certainly worth much of what you owe me. Yet why is it I feel that debt continue to grow so often?” 

“I wouldn’t say that it grows, it simply evades you.” Tyrion set his horn aside and looked firmly at Bronn. “But in this case, you could say that the debt is about to grow. Our esteemed Lord of Casterly Rock will be unavailable for the battle, and unavailable to lead the Loyal forces of the Westerlands.” 

“And how many are they now? The most of the sons of the men the King executed are packing to go home or join Cersei leaving you with less than ten thousand men. Even a couple of the Reach and the Crownlands are stupid enough to go with them.” 

“Yes, we have lost a considerable force. But we still outnumber Cersei three to one. Not to mention that Brandon Stark will be assisting with the strategy, thwarting any attempt of traps Cersei may have been laying for us. And we have three dragons and two dozen giants.” 

“Oh, I have no doubt who the victor of the battle will be. All I want to know is what’s in it for me. Figured you all would’ve known that by now after savin’ your golden asses more times than either of you have saved mine which to my count has been never.” 

“Never?” Jaime asked. “What about when I negotiated your release from Dorne, or when I smuggled you out of King’s Landing the day we left?” 

“As long as Doran Martell was the prince, I don’t think anyone would have been executed for what we did. He was a spineless man and you just took the credit. And I had several other people to turn to at the Capitol, you just happened to be closest. And I repaid that debt by getting us horses and safe passage with the Dothraki.” 

“I don’t think anyone would count being taken prisoner as safe passage.” 

“Yet we made it all the same, unharmed and without spending a day in a cell covered in our own shit. For fuck’s sake, must I teach you rich cunts how to do everything?” 

“As long as we keep paying you, why not?” Tyrion slyly remarked. 

“As long as the payment is given. As for leadin’ your armies, I don’t think the loyal lords will take kindly to following a Riverlord over their liege into battle. So better for them, if I were a fellow Lord of the Westerlands, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Tyrion almost looked surprised at the logic in that. “That is true, but you have already been appointed the Lord of the Twins.” 

“And I can easily be appointed lord of something else that is just as good or in my case, double.” 

“Double? That offer was for switching sides specifically.” 

“What was it you once told me about money? I give you some and after a certain time, you return it with interest? The Riverlands are too cold in the winter and too muggy in the summer. The Westerlands, on the other hand, are right in the middle. Warm summers and tolerable winters. And since you already plan to refurbish a castle for its riches, I’ll consider that a favor for all the delays.” 

“You want Castamere?” Jaime asked. “A man like you ruling over a mine? That’s far too much paperwork for swordsman like you.” 

“But just enough wealth. That’s my price for my castle, as for the bride… I’d prefer to keep the one I have but if it can’t be helped, I want a Dornishwoman.” 

Tyrion sighed out after taking a long, well deserved, drink of wine. “If you lead the Westerland forces and defeat our King and Queen’s enemies, I shall see to it that Castamere and a highborn beauty well skilled in a bed shall be yours.” 

Bronn stood up with a smug expression and held out his hand to Tyrion who shook it with a hint of agitation. “Give me those, and your debt to me shall be paid.” 

“Finally,” Jaime remarked. 

“Don’t get too relieved just yet, you still have to deliver.” Bronn patted Jaime on the shoulder. “Come on Pod, show me how a knight of Payne fights.” The two of them left the room with their horns of wine, leaving Jaime and Tyrion alone. 

“He is a greedy bastard.” Jaime snarked. 

“Greedy, but loyal. Opportunistic to the fullest if he can get something worth getting, no matter what the deed is.” Tyrion replied. “As long as there’s is gold or something worth more, he will always be a sellsword. Do you know what he said to me once when I asked if he would kill a babe if ordered without question?” 

“Knowing Bronn, he probably asked how much.” 

Tyrion took another drink of wine. “I hope any children he spawns are better than him.” 

Jaime shrugged. “I think you would miss him if he disappeared.” 

“He does have a certain… I don’t know what you call it.” 

The two Lannister brothers shared a laugh together. The company they kept to was a strange one for the sons of Tywin Lannister, but it was unique and that’s how they liked it. 

“Have you almost finished packing?” Tyrion asked. 

“Almost,” Jaime replied. “I suppose you know of the plan then.” 

“I do. I was the one who suggested it. But I didn’t expect to learn that you would be one of the few going.” 

“Better than the King going himself. Who’s idea was it to send him?” 

This revelation surprised Tyrion. “Himself I’m guessing, the plan was to have Arya Stark be the one since she above everyone else deserves to take Cersei’s life.” 

“Yes, well she still will if I can’t.” There was a sullen pause. “Ever wonder how amazing it is we talk about the murder of our sister so casually?” 

“If I’m being figurative, she was never my sister. I’ve wished for her death more times than I’ve wished for anything in this world. But I will admit that I hope that after this war, things will start to change for good. I don’t imagine that this will be the end of all wars, but I can imagine that there will be peace long enough to last a few generations.” 

“Father did say that whoever comes out on top would establish a thousand year dynasty.” Jaime noticed Tyrion’s shift in mood. He remembered that day in beneath the Red Keep when they met in secret. Jaime nearly chose to strike Tyrion for mentioning their father. “Tyrion… our family is a complicated one.” 

“That’s the most understated thing I’ve ever heard anyone say.” 

Jaime wanted to object at first, but he wasn’t wrong. “Listen. I still can’t forgive you for what you did to our father. I don’t I ever will. But I don’t hate you for it anymore.  I even understand where it came from.” 

Tyrion was at a loss for words, or rather he struggled to find them. “Maybe Cersei was right. If I hadn’t killed him, Myrcella, Tommen, they might be alive.”  The regret was plain on his face. “For that, I’m sorry.” 

“Maybe. But they’re dead now, nothing we can do to change that.” Jaime had accepted their fates long ago. But he couldn’t deny that longed to hold his children in his arms one last time. 

“It’s getting late,” Tyrion commented. “You should probably finish packing.” 

“Yes, I think that would be best. Will you see us off?” 

Tyrion nodded before Jaime took his leave and returned to his room. 

By the time the winter sun had set, Jaime was heavily dressed in furs for the long nights of riding he would be doing and tying his things to his horse. However, it was proving difficult to do with one hand but luckily Brienne was kind enough to assist him. 

“Are you ready for this?” Brienne asked. 

“Ready to ride day and night in snow and ice to the most dangerous city in the world or ready to kill the sister I came into the world with, that I did so much for in our lives? Or, at least, try again for that matter?” 

“Both.” 

Jaime merely shrugged at her. “We shall see, won’t we? Though I’d prefer sailing.” But as long as Euron’s fleet was keeping watch of ships from the north, now one would be able to slip by unnoticed. And with the theft of the Greyjoy ships anchored at Torrhen’s Square, the two naval forces would be evenly matched. Theon and Yara had a few dozen more ships than their uncle, but Euron was the better captain and commander. “But if the winters here are still easier than the ones beyond the Wall, I’m sure we’ll manage. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to camp.  Might be some fun before we all could die.” 

Brienne rolled her eyes at him before she finished strapping on Jaime’s things to his saddle. She returned to preparing her own horse alongside Arya and Clegane. Arya had fewer things than Jaime and Brienne had but Clegane’s massive horse carried a bastard sword, an axe, his armor, and would soon be carrying him too. 

The King was saying his farewells to Lady Arya and, oddly enough, Lord Samwell Tarly was with him to see off the Hound. What was even more surprising was when Lord Tarly gave his family’s Valyrian sword to him for the journey. However, he made sure to distinctly tell Clegane that he wanted it back, from what Jaime heard. 

Gendry Baratheon had come as well, to say farewell to his wife, and he too had a Valyrian sword to give. This one was a Braavosi water dancer blade, and it was nearly identical to the one she already had around her waist. “I was hoping to give it before the battle, but I guess it’s now or never.” 

Arya removed her sword belt and the sword she already had and replaced it with the new one. Now she was armed with a Valyrian Sword and a Valyrian Dagger. 

“What are going to call it?” The King asked her. 

Arya grasped the hilt of her sword and moved her fingers down the leatherbound handle over the pommel engraved with direwolves. “I think I’ll keep it as Needle.” 

Clegane scoffed at her when he overheard them talking. “Yes yes, I’m a cunt for naming my sword.” 

“No, just a cunt who can’t think of anything else than one name,” he said after strapping Heartsbane to his back. Arya ignored his comment and gave her husband a deep kiss. 

 _‘It’s a far better name than Demon Monkey at least.’_ Jaime thought before he noticed an approaching silhouette in the darkness. 

Appearing from the shadows came Tyrion. “I suppose this is goodbye then.” He confessed. 

“Maybe, but if everything goes right it won’t be yet.”

 “When has anything ever involving Cersei gone to plan.” 

The chuckled together at the truth of that. Jaime knelt to his brother and gave him hug. “Hopefully the next time we see each other, it will be at a well-deserved victory.” 

“Even if it’s not, I look forward to that day.” Jaime let go of his brother and mounted his horse as did the others. 

The King stepped forward to address them all. “Ride along the King’s Road until you’ve reached the Crownlands. After that, you’ll have to take caution of watchful eyes. Bran informed me that there are fewer spies watching near Maidenpool and Duskendale. And whatever happens, don’t die. That’s a command.” He nodded to all of them and Arya was the first to spur her horse through the gates with Clegane following her, Brienne after him, and Jaime in the rear. 

The four of them rode into the darkness of the cold night with only the light of a half moon to guide their way on the road to King’s Landing. The air bit at their faces as they began their task to kill a queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think about the name Bronn gave to his sword?
> 
> you can check it out here: https://www.deviantart.com/multirandomness21/art/Valyrian-Sword-Part-27-771660137
> 
> Also, thanks VegatheBlackFlame for doing a rendition of WinterSong: https://www.deviantart.com/vegaoftheblackflame/art/Winter-Song-Commission-764566204


	83. Sansa VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we begin, I would like to apologize for the time it's taking. I am trying to get these out faster but I just don't have the juice I once did. If it wasn't for my beta MSquared79 then these would not be half as good. I also need to thank her for writing a scene coming up. She knows how to keep it borderline. Also I will admit that I do have regrets for starting the pairing that is going to be witnessed in this chapter. It was back when I had no beta and chopped off hands as I pleased.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy. Probably less than 10 chapters left! (including the epilogue maybe)

Sansa

The day of departure had finally come. Though the men who remained loyal to Cersei left two days prior, all who would fight for House Targaryen were nearly ready and waiting for their King to lead them south. They would be marching through snow filled roads with the Free Folk at the van to lead them given their abilities to travel through snows faster than any other men. Even so, it would be a month of traveling on such roads, and there would still be many falls of snow, whether light or heavy, that would obstruct their travel and cold temperatures that could prove too much for some to fight through.

The hills around Winterfell began to look less crowded once again with the tents taken down and men organizing into battalions to march. The Dothraki and the Free Folk, however, were still scattered about like a crowd rather than uniform like an army.

It was only hours until they would be emptying the surrounding lands, all except the garrison staying at Winterfell. There were only several thousand Northmen in the Northern army, and most of them were still young men whose only battle was at the Wall or old men who were almost at the age too weak to fight. But even so, they were Northmen, and they could defeat four times their number in winter combat. And this time, things would not be the same as when Robb marched south. This time it would dragons and lions fighting with the wolves against the evil in King's Landing.

But while the soldiers prepared for war, the smallfolk continued to repair the damage that was inflicted. Masons worked stone and mortar to rebuild the parts of the castle the wildfire destroyed. First, they had to break apart the melted stone before they could lay new ones. It would be months before the castle would be fixed, possibly a year given the number of workers that they had available.

Sansa sat next to Rickon in the Great Hall. The wall across from them was gone and braziers were brought in to give heat.

"I'm afraid we just don't have enough of the material to work." The representative of the masons informed them. He was an elderly man who was as old as Ser Rodrik before his death. "And travel to the quarry would take a fortnight just to bring back enough for a day's worth of work."

Rickon sat up straight in his seat. "Is there any other way to get the work done at a good pace?"

"More men would help, but not by much. We would still have to clear the quarry of snow and mine the stone."

The mason was right. To at least get things started, they would need material ready to be used.

Sansa spoke up. "If you could acquire a source of already refined stone for… a moon's turn, would that be long enough to prepare the quarry to be regularly mined?"

"I think so, milady."

Sansa turned to Rickon. "Isn't there a pair of abandoned towers in the Wolfswood to the north?"

"Aye. Bran and I stayed there when we fled."

"What if we had the towers salvaged? And while they are, we send some men to begin work to mine stone." There were many structures and buildings empty of residents, and standing empty in the snow was serving no one.

Rickon looked at the mason. "Would that work?"

"Aye, but we will still need the men."

"I'll send a raven to the White Harbor for help. Until then, gather the other masons and a handful of the guard for additional assistance and protection should you need it."

"Thank you, milord. We will work as hard as we can to restore the castle." The mason bowed and left.

"Any more?" Rickon asked the guard standing by the door to the hall.

"Lord Greyjoy is awaiting an audience," the guards standing by the door announced.

Sansa's mood shifted ever so slightly hearing that. There were still so many mixed feelings she and the rest of the Stark's had towards him. She nodded to Rickon, who told the guard to show him in.

Theon walked in followed by a familiar woman with a babe in her arms and a little boy trailing behind her.

"Lord Stark." Theon greeted.

"Lord Greyjoy. Or shouldn't you be called King?"

"Until Euron is dead, I am only the Lord of the Iron Islands. But I plan to have Yara become the Queen. I was hoping you could grant me a favor, or rather, grant her a favor." He gestured to the woman next to him. She stepped forward and gave a curtsey. "This is Bella and Theon"

"Your son, I remember him," Rickon replied.

Bella looked confused, as did Small Theon and Sansa. "Pardon me, milord, but I don't think my son's ever met you before."

"Um… no, we haven't." Rickon had told Sansa of his vision of Theon and Jon at Flint's Finger.

"It's complicated," Theon whispered to Bella. He stepped forward. "I'll be straightforward. If Euron manages to defeat the Iron Fleet, he'll go raiding and pillaging. I don't want them anywhere near the sea if that happens. Please grant them permission to live here."

"I can work, milord," Bella said. "I can cook and clean-"

"You and your son are welcome to stay here as long as you need," Rickon told them.

"And you are a guest here," Sansa added. "We will not require it of you to earn for your stay."

Bella curtsied to both of them. "Thank you, milady."

"Thank you, Sansa," Theon added.

Rickon looked over to the guard. "See to it that Bella and her children are given a room."

"At once, my lord." The guard escorted Bella and the children outside, but Theon lingered still.

"If that's all," Rickon said to Sansa, "I'm going to go wait for Jon." Rickon left on his own and Sansa got out of her seat and approached Theon.

"I'd been meaning to ask, but was that babe in Bella's arms your sister's?"

Theon nodded silently. "Yara told me to leave her at an orphanage anywhere but near her, but I couldn't. I'll just keep her out of sight."

"Have you named her yet?"

Theon shook his head. "It's not that I can't think of a name, I just don't feel right doing it. But I feel even worse to ask Yara to. I mean, how can I ask her to name the child created from our uncle raping her?"

In a way, Sansa could try to understand Yara's feelings. She felt terrified when she had her moonblood in King's Landing. Always being afraid of the day she could have to bear Joffrey's children. She wasn't sure if she would be able to ever show love to any child she had with golden hair like his.

She didn't want the matter to weigh on Theon longer than it was. "Will you be joining your men at Eastwatch?"

"No, Yara will be commanding them and will regroup at an island near the Fingers. Then it's just a matter of waiting for the order to attack or for Euron to attack us. Either one, I won't run away, not again." Theon looked more determined than Sansa had ever seen him be for years. Ever since he was tortured and mutilated he had looked afraid to do almost anything, no matter how little it was.

"You know, you're starting to remind me of your old self."

"I am?"

"You just seem more… whole."

Theon smiled just a little. "I was broken into a thousand pieces, and then broken again. But fighting the dead and rescuing Yara, I've been able to rebuild myself. And having Bella and our son… having them heals the scars

gave me." Theon didn't need to say who he meant for Sansa to know he was talking about Ramsay.

"I'm happy for you, truly."

Theon eyed her curiously. "Have you been able to?"

Sansa was silent for a moment, too long at that.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ask-"

"No, it's alright. I just don't have an answer. Or rather I don't think I can. I can't forget what he did to me."

"It's not about forgetting, it's about accepting." Theon shivered in place for an instant. "He tortured me beyond anything I thought possible, made me something less than a man. But I'm free of his pain now. Yara, Bella, my son, they all help me piece myself back together. Not into Theon Greyjoy, but someone else, someone better and stronger." He looked at her with a fierceness in his eyes similar to Jon. "What is dead may never die."

Hearing him say all that comforted Sansa in a way she didn't expect. It gave her hope. "I admire you for being able to Theon. But I think it will be some time until I can start on the path you did."

"Mine is different than the one you need to find. But if there is one thing I know that will help you come to a place of peace, it is to have those you care about surround you. You still have your brothers, Arya. Now you also have the Queen." Theon paused for a minute, a queer look in his eyes and his manner guarded. "And perhaps Lord Dayne?"

"Edric? Why would you say that?" His question not only caught her off-guard but also made her defensive.

When he answered, she detected something of the foster brother she remembered, the one who would tease. "I have seen how you were there for him and his children when the bodies were brought in. How close you two have become since the attack."

She shook her head vehemently. "That was...I was just...acting as the Lady of Winterfell."

He didn't seem to believe her protestations. "I've seen you when you're with him. You look free."

"Whatever you think I was feeling, I wasn't. I have spent time with him numerously but-"

"But he brings something out of you when you are. Something you used to be. Something that helps you heal." Theon paused and looked spoken out of place. "I'm not saying you need him, but I'm not saying you don't either. But at the least, you deserve something to wipe away the ugliness the world showed you."

Sansa was feeling cornered and she didn't know why. But she never got the chance to give Theon a reasonable response.

"I have to go now, Sansa. I hope to see you again soon." He left her only with a smile that was almost a smirk like the ones he used to give before everything changed.

Sansa wasn't sure what he was trying to get her to do. Was he trying to counsel her or get her to confess that he was right?

As much as she wanted him to be, she couldn't let herself be like that. She enjoyed Edric's company but going further than that would only cause problems. She couldn't make the same mistakes that Robb made. But given how things were, she wouldn't be able to find a chance. Edric was still distraught over the death of Neela. And it would be beyond dishonorable if she were to try and get closer to him than she already had.

Sansa shook the feelings and thoughts from her. It was nearly time for the armies to leave and she was going to see off Jon and Bran before they left. She went outside and found Rickon over at the Royal caravan with their brother.

Bran was being seated in a covered wagon when Sansa joined him and Rickon. He saw them and looked slightly annoyed at himself. "I can warg into almost any beast but I can still can't ride a damn horse." he admitted.

"I believe you will be able to one day.' Sansa told him. "Things just happen to be in poor timing for you to get the chance. Perhaps when the wars are over, you can finally focus on something else than having visions."

"I-I don't just focus on the visions now. I'm getting better at closing my eyes to them for other things."

"Whatever it is, I'm glad your back to being yourself again. I missed you."

"Me too." Bran smiled at her.

Appearing from behind the cart was Meera Reed. "Wagon's all ready to go, are you?"

"Yes, just waiting for Jon to lead the way now."

"You're going with them?" Sansa asked Meera.

"Just to the Neck. Then I need to go home to give my father a proper burial."

The ravens began to caw out and flutter in their cages on the sled behind the wagon. These were not of the flock Bran would control but the ravens that were to be used by the lords and ladies to send out to the holdfasts of their lands. There were already some ravens sent out by many ordering more men to be mustered and sent to their castles to defend against more treachery or schemes by Cersei.

"But I'll be sending a host of men to garrison Moat Cailin." Meera told them. "The North will not be taken again."

"Thank you for all your efforts, Meera," Sansa told her. "I wish you luck in your travels, to both of you."

"We'll be alright," Bran assured her, "The road is clear of danger right now and we'll have an escort of thousands of men."

"It doesn't hurt to have dragons either." Rickon japed.

"No, it does not," Bran agreed, smiling as he spoke. It warmed everyone to see him like that again. "Well, Jon is almost outside, so I suppose this is farewell for us."

"For now, brother," Rickon said.

"Yes," said Sansa. "But when you get to King's Landing, make sure Cersei knows that Winter has come for her."

Bran nodded before Sansa and Rickon left him in his wagon to go and wait with Daenerys and her children to see their brothers off.

Jon appeared from the castle dressed in his cloak and a coat of leather with a scale texture and red trimmings. He was embracing more of his Targaryen heritage. On his head was the crown he was gifted on his wedding night. Following vigilantly behind was Ghost, fully healed and stronger than ever, along with Ser Jorah and Ser Will. Additionally to the Kingsguard was Lonnel Fenn who was knighted and offered a white cloak for his bravery and skill for defending Daenerys. Unlike his new brethren, however, he carried no sword. Only a pair of axes at his sides and a castle forged three-pronged spear.

Besides them in the King's Company, Tyrion and Missandei were following behind. Tyrion would be vital to the negotiations if they were to happen and Missandei would be needed to both act as a counselor and translator for the King. She had knowledge of many of the sellsword companies and met their captains and commanders when she was a slave.

Jon approached his family to say his goodbyes before he was to lead the armies south. First, he went to Daenerys who was holding both of their children in their arms.

"I promise I'll come back this time, alive."

"I know you will," Daenerys replied. "But there's something else I want you to promise me. Make sure you show Cersei she has no hope to keep the throne. Let her know that winter has come for her with fire and blood."

Jon nodded and gave her a deep kiss and then two lighter ones to each of his sons. "I'll see you two soon." He stepped to Sansa and Rickon. "The next time we see each other, things will finally start to change. I promise."

Sansa and Rickon both hugged Jon tightly and he, them. Even with the superior force, Sansa couldn't help but worry that something bad would happen, if Jon would be the same when they did see him again.

Tyrion approached Sansa and bowed to her. "My lady, despite the events, I thank you and your House for their hospitality and honor you have shown. I hope that perhaps one day I will be able to repay it in kind when we're both not surrounded by schemers and tyrants."

"You have our gratitude, my lord. And consider this repayment for your kindness and protection in King's Landing."

Tyrion smiled at her warmly and stepped over to Daenerys to say his parting words before joining Missandei to a warm carriage while the others mounted horses.

Jon left with Ghost and mounted atop his horse. He gave one last look to them all before spurring his horse through the gates. He was followed by his Kingsguard and men behind carrying Targaryen and Stark Banners. Moments after, the ground began to shake and thousands of hooves outside the walls sounded like thunder as they followed after the King to war.

After the sounds and the vibrations died, the dragons screeched out. Their wings appeared over the walls before their bodies followed and they took to the skies to follow after the armies. But the number of dragons leaving was strange. Rhaegal and Lyarras were the only two flying.

"Where's Drogon?" Sansa asked.

Daenerys just as confused. "Would you hold the babies please?" She handed Matthias to Sansa and Aemon to Rickon before she hastily walked out through the gate.

Sansa and Rickon walked onto the battlements to see what was happening.

Daenerys approached the great black and red dragon with no hesitation. "Drogon!" she called. The dragon was curled up, resting in the snow.

"What do you think's wrong?" Rickon asked.

"I don't know," Sansa replied. "Maybe the wound on his leg hurts too much."

Daenerys continued calling her dragon, but he would not take flight. He even snuffed at her when she grew angry. Eventually, she gave up and returned inside the castle and rejoined Rickon and Sansa.

"What's wrong with him?" Sansa asked.

"He doesn't want to leave. A grown dragon is acting like a stubborn child." Daenerys took Aemon from Rickon. "But I do sense from him that there is more to it than that, I just can't figure out what." Dragons were strange creatures indeed, as strange as direwolves.

Matthias began to fuss and cry in Sansa's arms so she began to rock him back and forth.

"He's probably hungry, they both are. Would you bring him to my room?"

"Yes, of course. Rickon, you should get back to your practice."

"Alright Sansa. I'll see you at supper." Rickon left to train his swordsmanship while Sansa and Daenerys went back inside the castle.

Matthias was the first to feed from his mother. While he did, Sansa rocked Aemon in her arms to settle his fussing down. His eyes were starting to darken ever so slightly from the baby blue color to the beginnings of green. They would probably keep changing to match Jon's eyes just like Matthias's were starting to show traces of violet, like his mother's.

Aemon grabbed ahold of Sansa's finger and squeezed it softly. Him being in her arms made her feel calm in a way she hadn't been for a long time. She also felt a little bit of envy in her, but she didn't want to accept that she did.

"He has a strong grip," Sansa commented.

"They both do. They'll be as strong as Jon when they grow up." Daenerys smiled down at Matthias as he coughed lightly at her breast.

A memory made Sansa smile, and Daenerys caught her look. "Jon was strong when he was young, even though he was smaller than most boys his age. And when he was sparring, he'd regularly beat Robb."

"Did he? Somehow, I am not surprised." Now, it was Sansa who gave the look and her good-sister who supplied the answer. "When we had our first private conversation, Jon made mention of disliking something he was best at. He was referring to his skills with the sword."

"Before we retook Winterfell, Jon and I met face to face with Ramsey Snow," Sansa began, not dignifying that monster with his legitimized name, gifted to him by another bastard. "He had heard of Jon's abilities with a sword. Even if he was modest about them."

Dany seemed to agree. "His modesty did stand out to me. When he was defying my rights as queen, he never phrased it as anything personal to him, but to the North as a whole."

"Being raised a bastard taught him that. He never wanted to stand out, never wanted anything that would draw the attention of my mother."

"Jon has never talked about his childhood much," Daenerys said. "But I can imagine it was hard for him to have been an outcast."

"My mother was cold to almost all the time, and so was I. He was always sulking when he was alone until it turned into brooding. But whenever he was with Robb and Arya he was happy. Robb was the only one of us who could coax a smile out of him. And Arya, they had a connection almost from the moment she was born. He was a good brother to us all, even if my mother never chose to see it."

There was a moment of silence until the Queen sought more information. "When did you learn about his death at Castle Black?" Daenerys asked. Her voice had hints of being uncomfortable asking the question.

"Shortly after I arrived. He told me about the dragons and then the mutiny, but I never the saw the scars until he was turned into… one of those things." The memory of seeing Jon with eyes like ice and screeching inhumane noises made her shudder.

"I never saw his scars until we both imprisoned on Pyke together. He could have shown them to me when we first met and it would have outweighed everything I said to him, all the things I went through to get to where I am. But he didn't."

"I think he aspired to be everything my mother said he was not. He's the most like our father than the rest of us."

"It's ironic," Daenerys said. "Thinking on it now and understanding just what my father was, the same could be said of Viserys." He wasn't the best of people but there was a time when he was a good person. Then men promising him the throne poisoned his mind and made him arrogant, idiotic and finally cruel to point that it pleasured him." Daenerys finished feeding Aemon and set him down in his crib. "And then he threatened to cut out my child from my stomach and leave it with my first husband. That was the point I couldn't see him as my family anymore. He was killed with liquid gold poured onto his head and I did nothing to stop it."

Sansa thought she would be shocked to hear such a thing, but she wasn't. Surprised maybe, but she had seen enough death and pain in her life to expect such things to have happened.

"But do you what frightened me the most? I almost reveled in watching him die like my father did when he burned people alive. I didn't know the truth about him then but now… it makes me think that I'm more like him than I thought."

"You're one of the farthest people from your father that I can possibly imagine, Dany. The closest person is Cersei and you're nothing like her. That may have been the way you were, but it's not who you are now. I don't believe that you will become that type of person. And I know that Jon will not let that happen either."

"A person can change more than think, given enough time. When I was a child I never imagined to be the Queen I am now. In fact, I don't remember what it was I saw myself to be. But certainly not this."

"I imagined that I would be a loving Queen to Joffrey and have his many children. Now being a queen is the last thing I want. Everything I wanted as a little girl was dreams of things that were just stupid delusions in a world that doesn't exist."

"Our dreams are only delusions to us if we chose them to be. I didn't let that kind of thinking stop me from rising into a queen, to fight for my homeland and my family." Daenerys took hold of Sansa's hand, comforting her. "And you shouldn't let it stop you."

After the babes had fed, they were fast asleep in their cribs. Each of them slept alone, but Daenerys had the two dragon eggs placed in their cribs. Aemon had the red and orange one and Matthias had the ash grey egg. They babes looked at peace with their eggs.

But the peace was broken by the sound of crying. It wasn't the babes, but a little girl. The sound was coming from the hallway.

Out of instinct, Sansa left her seat to investigate. She followed the noise to its source and found little Ashara sitting alone in the hallway, sobbing in her arms.

Sansa knelt down and placed her hand on Ashara's back. "Ashara?"

Ashara didn't respond, she only kept on crying.

It broke Sansa's heart to watch her like this, so she took the little girl into her arms and carried her back to Daenerys's room.

"Is everything alright?" Daenerys asked when Sansa returned.

Sansa merely shook her head at her. She sat back down and started to gently rock and shush Ashara. "It's going to be alright."

"P-papa…" Ashara squeaked through her tears. "He d-doesn't like me anymore."

This shocked both Sansa and Daenerys.

"Why would you say that?" Sansa asked.

"He sh-shouted at me when I went to see him." Ashara's grip on Sansa tightened. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no you did nothing wrong. In fact, he's the one who did something wrong." Sansa couldn't believe what she just heard. It didn't matter that Edric lost his wife. Why for any reason at all would Edric behave in such a way to his own daughter? "Dany, will you watch her please."

"Of course," Daenerys said with a warm smile.

"Where're you going?" Ashara asked. She was finally starting to calm down from her tears.

"I'm going to go see your papa."

"Are you going to hurt him?"

"No, I'm going to make him apologize."

Ashara hopped out of Sansa's arms freely and was wooed by Daenerys to sit with her on the bed. The two of them began talking when Sansa left them, feeling glad that Ashara had stopped crying but also furious at who she was about to go see.

When Sansa arrived at Edric's room and entered, she saw him leaning on his bedpost, barely holding himself from collapsing to the floor. There was a wineskin spilling there and given that the spill was small determined how much was consumed.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sansa demanded.

"I need- urp… to get ready for war. I need to ride out." Edric tried to stand independently but slipped and fell to his knees. He screamed out and grasped at his bandages.

The noise was noticed by a guard nearby and he rushed into the room with his sword half drawn. "Is everything alright?"

Sansa turned back to the guard. "Send for Maester Wolkan and some water."

"Yes, milady."

Sansa removed her cloak and set it aside on a chair before helping Edric back into bed. He was still drunk and quite resistful of her, but even then she forced him to lay down.

"Is there any wine left in the pouch?" he asked, annoying her greatly. Not once since she entered had he inquired about Ashara. But she did pick up the wineskin to see if there was. She felt the weight of what remained and dumped it out with the rest of the spilled wine.

"Not anymore."

It didn't take long for the guard to return with the maester. He removed Edric's bandages (which were now starting to be stained in Edric's blood) to examine the damage done while a servant accompanying him brought water for Edric and cleaned the wine from the floor.

"You'll be alright. Your wounds are still healing, the rash movements let some blood slip between the sewings. It happens from time to time. Make sure that you make gentle movements from now on, but stay in bed and make sure you rest easy for about a day. I can give you Milk of the Poppy for the pain."

Edric never made eye contact or looked at the maester. His eyes were stuck on the window to his room as he shook his head.

"I don't want the damn Milk of the Poppy."

"I thought not." Maester Wolkan replied with a roll of his eyes. Every maester probably heard that refusal more times than there were Houses in Westeros. He wrapped Edric in some clean cloths and excused himself along with his the servant.

Sansa remained though. She still needed to address his unacceptable behavior to his own daughter. "Why would you shout at Ashara of all times?"

"You're still here?" Edric's words were slurred as he lay in his bed. "Could you at least bring me a drink?"

"There's a goblet of water next to you."

"Fuck water. I want wine." Edric growled. He was being more stubborn Arya used to be as a child. Though she knew the rage that came with the murder of family. She wanted to starve herself to death after hearing of the Red Wedding. Joffrey had done everything he could to remind her of it before his death. Tyrion and the Tyrells were the only ones who tried to give her comfort. But even still, he didn't excuse his behavior.

Sansa pulled her chair next to Edric's bed and sat down. "If you stop being an arse while I talk, I'll consider giving you something besides water." He did not respond, so she kept on speaking. "You may have lost your wife, but your children lost their mother. They lost one of the only people they truly know that they love and they have no idea what to do. They need you. Leaving them alone will only make it worse."

Edric half laughed at her. "And what would you kn-" he ended that phrase just before finishing it. He seemed to sober of a moment. "Of course you would know. Your father was executed before your eyes and your mother and brother butchered with no one but a dwarf's shoulder to cry on."

"I cried. I admit that I did but I had no one to cry with. I chose not to have anyone because I hated everyone around me. I would lay in bed imagining those I lost and how they died. I was alone and scared. But your children won't have to be. They need their father."

Edric scoffed and finally turned to look at her. "I'm not their father. I'm just the same stupid boy who chose to fight for glory instead of taking my place where I was meant to be." His annoyed attitude began to turn into sorrow. He showed it on his face but even more so in his eyes. "What kind of father leaves his wife alone when she needs him most? I failed as a husband."

"But you haven't as a father. You can still show them that this isn't the end of their world."

"But it is, isn't it?" Edric asked, his voice laced with sarcasm. Mayhaps not at the hands of the Night King, but there is still a war we may not survive. And if we do, what do we have left?" He sat himself up slowly, being face to face with her. "My home is gone, burned into rubble. My people slaughtered while I was away."

Sansa didn't notice her hand taking his. "You have your children. And you have your friends and the love they have for you. That's more than most get. More than I got when I thought I lost everything." Edric looked upon her silently. The violet in his eyes seemed to glow in the light of the room as the day faded. But the more Sansa looked at him, she kept realizing that he was in just as much pain as his children. "It's not the end of your world. It doesn't have to be unless you let it."

Sansa never realized when it happened. Edric had leaned himself to her and began kissing her. But what surprised her more than the spontaneousness of it was that she wasn't fighting back from it. She let it happen.

Edric finally realized what he was doing and pulled away. "I'm sorry, I… I shouldn't have-"

Sansa didn't let him finish. She felt a great desire for more of what he gave her and he didn't resist. In fact, for their next time, Edric deepened their kiss together and pulled her closer to him. It was like he needed this from her.

It caught her off-guard for a moment, the movements he made. Perhaps, in the end, that was the first step to weaken her defenses. But it was the little thing, the gallant knight kissing the hand of the fair maiden like in the songs, that allowed her to allow him to continue.

He had a look in his eyes she could vaguely remember seeing in her own mother's eyes when she would look at her father. How Ned Stark would take Catelyn Stark's hand and kiss it gently. She had thought, at one time, that Joffrey would look at her that way, that he'd take her in his arms and carry her off to their chambers. But now, seeing Edric look at her, she wanted from him what her father gave her mother.

She did not know how it happened, but for some reason, their lips remained connected and parted, their tongues in a dance together. Then, slowly he moved down her neck, gently caressing the length of it, while his hands moved to her back, working at the ties at the back of her dress. There was a moment of fear that seized her, remembering Ramsey in the same situation. But he was dead, and this man, this man with her now…

She shocked herself when her own fingers worked the laces of his trousers. She could feel him here, anticipating what was to come. By the gods, she wanted it too, if for nothing else than to banish the ghosts that still haunted her within the walls of Winterfell. She knew a proper lady should not want this, but she didn't want to be a proper lady now. Edric was right-this could be the end of the world. They could all be killed in the war to come against Cersei. And here was a man, a broken man, who needed something to ease his wounds. If she could offer him any comfort, even if it was merely with her body, she would.

It dissolved into the shedding of clothes, skin on skin. She knew she should fear these actions, but as to why, she could not remember. Their bodies eventually made their way to lie in the bed as they eased down. In the miasma of their state of minds, somehow, they were gentle with Edric's wounds. But the passion grew fiercer until they seemed to both fall over the edge together.

And then Sansa remembered nothing else.

The chill of a light breeze came in through the window onto Sansa's face. She shivered lightly as she slowly woke up. The cold never bothered her much, however, the breeze making it sudden did. Despite that though, she felt warm inside herself, warmer than she had been for a long time.

She shifted in the bed, groaning as she felt the furs warm her body and wanted to return to the bliss of sleep. She was still halfway there, but she started to become aware that she wasn't in her nightgown. She was completely naked. What shot wide awake when she felt another naked body in the bed and saw Edric asleep next to her.

She remembered their talk last night and what it led into. Thinking on it now, she was in absolute shock of what they had done. She didn't know how to react. The only thing she felt right now was the regret of all things. She shouldn't have kissed him and definitely should not have slept with him. At first, she wanted to blame it on the wine, but Edric was the only one who drank it last night. She herself became drunk in merely the pleasure and lost herself in him.

Careful not to wake Edric up, Sansa slipped out his bed and dressed with all haste. She froze when Edric stirred around but was relieved when it was nothing more. She couldn't confront him about this yet. She felt like an idiot right now who just took advantage of the moment last night.

Lazily clothed, she rushed out of the room but cautiously so that no one took notice of her. She had to retreat to her room and she most definitely needed a bath. Her hair was oily and her skin smelled of sweat and she felt a dry sticky sensation between her legs as she walked.

She made it to her room thankfully unnoticed and immediately began to undress from her gown and into a night robe to not arouse curiousness or suspicion when her servants were to arrive for their duties. She was lucky to wake up this early. The light of dawn was beginning to reveal itself and soon the people would be too.

Sansa got in her bed and tried to relax and collect her thoughts. But the only ones running through her head were about what an idiot she was. Indulging herself like that was beyond foolish. A night of pleasure could create years of problems. Her immediate concern was ow would Edric see this when he would sober up.

She began to remember what happened in the night, what they did and how much she enjoyed it. She couldn't deny that she did but she could accept that she went through with it.

Before Sansa realized how much time had gone, her door was knocked on before her handmaid walked in. "Good morning, my lady." She began to gather Sansa's used clothes as Sansa started to pretend to just wake. "Shall I have a bath drawn for you?"

"Yes. Please do, quickly."

Warm waters were brought and set and fresh clothes laid out. The handmaiden took the sheets off the bed to washed as Sansa stripped down and stepped into the water. As she wiped herself clean, she couldn't help but wish that she could wipe the guilt she was feeling. But the more she thought about it, it wasn't guilt she was feeling, nor regret. She was starting to feel nothing in that sense and it was worrying her.

She was dressed by sunrise and already breaking her fast with Rickon and Daenerys. She didn't speak to them which was making things strange as an awkward silence dragged on longer than it should have.

Rickon finally cleared his throat and brought the attention to something at least. "We received a raven from White Harbor. They have an overabundance of fish and will be bringing most of their catch to help with the lost food."

"That's wonderful news." Daenerys said. "Has there been any word from the other keeps or holdfasts?"

"Aye, but only a couple responses and they are rather far from the North. Lannisport has some food they are willing to sell. They're asking for more than I think they should, but what choices do we have really?"

"Not many, I'm afraid. Perhaps we can acquire harvest from the Free Cities or the Bay of Dragons. What do you think Sansa?"

Sansa wasn't paying attention. In fact, she hadn't touched her plate. Her head was still caught up in what to do and what would happen.

"Sansa?" Daenerys placed a hand on her shoulder which finally snapped her out of it.

"What? Forgive me, I wasn't listening. I… have a lot on my mind right now."

"Like what?" Rickon asked. "And where were you at supper last night?"

"It doesn't concern you." Sansa's kept her gaze away from Rickon but felt a different pair of eyes looking at her. She lifted her head back up for a quick glance who and saw it was Daenerys. Her eyes felt piercing and they could see past the mask that Sansa was trying to wear.

"Sansa," Daenerys said calmly, "how long did you spend at that

you went to take care of last night?" With that question, it was obvious that she knew.

Before Sansa could answer, the castle was shaken by a loud roar of Drogon from outside. Everyone's attention was drawn to the windows looking over the courtyard. People were scurrying around, many running and screaming at the roar of the dragon.

Drogon swooped down from the sky, nearly crashing into the castle. He began to circle around and started to fly in place and roar out. But the way he was acting was like he was angry, like he was yelling rage instead of breathing fire.

"What is he doing!?" Rickon exclaimed.

Daenerys had already left the Great Hall to go outside to confront her dragon. She walked into the center of the now empty courtyard and started shouting at her dragon, giving him commands in High Valyrian.

Drogon perched himself on the walls that were still intact and lowered his head to his mother before letting out another great roar. But Daenerys held her ground and didn't so much as even flinch. After that, the dragon merely gave what could be considered a scoff and took back into the skies. He wasn't leaving, but he wasn't keeping near the castle any longer which was good.

"Seven Hells," Rickon let the words fall out of him, "anyone who could stand their ground to that deserves to rule."

Sansa was going to agree with him, but she was at a loss for words to do so.


	84. Arya VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised this one would be up quicker and I deliver! Big shout out to my beta, MSquared79. Please give her love and appreciation for all her help. Just letting you guys know that I will be taking a break for the Holidays (because I won't be near a computer to write). But I will get back to it when I can and the next chapter should be uploaded quicker than usual because it's a short chapter but needed all the same. Enjoy!

Arya

"Damn, that's freezing." Brienne hissed as her fingers accidentally dipped into the cold waters of the creek.

Arya chuckled as she only felt coolness against her skin when it occasionally touched the water's surface as she filled her waterskin. She only wished that it wasn't so cold the day she jumped from Riverrun into the river. That memory made her forget the task she was going and the weight of the water pouches became heavy, indicating they were both nearly full. She corked them both just as Brienne had finished filling the two she had.

Upon leaving the creek, the two of them shuffled through snow almost knee high and past the trees that surrounded them. The light of their campfire was hard enough to find through the thick of the woods, but that only proved to be to their benefit to keep hidden.

Jaime was overseeing their dinner and Sandor was off a ways keeping watch. The smell of cooked rabbit began to fill the cold air almost making it feel warm.

"Ah, just in time," Jaime said. "The rabbits are almost ready, skinned and all."

Brienne handed him one of the water pouches and sat next to him on a cold log as she gave him a smile. She was the only one who tended to be in his close company.

Arya sat on a different log across the fire from the two of them. She drew Needle from its scabbard and took out a cloth from her satchel. She began to run it down the blade. It was yet to spill blood and she wanted to make sure it was perfectly clean before it was to have its first taste of death. She hoped it would be Cersei if she could, but there would be many in between her and Needle's end. Regardless of that, Jaime was tasked to be the one to do it.

Brienne took out a map of the Riverlands and began to go over their plans while the rabbits finished cooking by the fire. "We're about fifteen miles north of a fork in the Kingsroad that leads to the Twins."

"Maybe we should cross the bridge while can. It's toll-free until the new lord sets foot there." Jaime was obviously joking, but Brienne took him seriously.

"That might not be a bad idea," the lady knight said, completely missing Lannister's tone.

"What?" Jaime and Arya both asked in unison.

"We're meant to carry out our duty when the fighting begins, but we're a week ahead of the army and less than a fortnight from the capital at the rate we're going. If we continue this way, we'll be stuck waiting for weeks until the King arrives. If we detour to the Twins, we will arrive only days before."

Jaime objected. "But we don't have the supplies for that long a journey. We barely caught enough food for our rest."

Arya set Needle back into its scabbard and walked over to the both of them, observing the map. "We can stay at Riverrun for a few days and resupply. But I think we should go further south after that and come up to King's Landing where the eyes of Cersei won't be looking."

"Flank from the south," Jaime understood. "If we make for the Mud Gate, I know of a hidden sewer that can get us past the walls of the city. Tyrion used it to flank Stannis Baratheon's men when they attacked. I know a way into the underbelly near there we can use to sneak into Red Keep."

All hands went to the hilts of swords when a bush rustled but the tension eased when it was just Sandor returning from his watch. "Are those rabbits done yet?" Heartsbane clunked on his back as he walked. He was given a new scabbard for it so that he could draw it from that position and be able to have a broadsword at his side.

"Just about-"

Sandor didn't even wait for Jaime to finish when he took one of them from the heat and backed away quickly from the fire despite how small the flames were. He wrapped himself in his thick cloak before sitting next to Arya and tearing into the meat. "Could use some salt."

"Apologies that our pantry is not stocked with seasonings." Jaime retorted.

Arya interjected before the insults would begin, but she almost didn't want to. "We're changing course and making for the Twins." She expected some angry response from Sandor, but all he did was give her a quick glance before resuming eating.

Arya took her share of the rabbit and ate as well. Sandor was right, it could use some salt. "Though I did hope we could've stopped by the Inn at the Crossroads. I have a friend who would have treated us to some kidney pies."

"I remember him," Brienne said, "he gave me and Pod some bread shaped like a direwolf. We meant to give to you but…"

"I ran. I'm sorry I didn't trust you back then."

"You don't need to apologize. I don't think I would've trusted me either."

"It was the sword that put me on edge. I hate Lannister gold and their lions."

Jaime chuckled to himself hearing that, probably used to those kinds of remarks. "I would've had a new hilt made if I knew that was going to happen. But I never would've thought the Hound would be the one protecting you."

"No, you thought she was dead," Brienne reminded.

"As did the rest of the country." Jaime bit into his rabbit after that. "I am curious though, what would you have done if Arya went with you?"

"I'd like to know too," Sandor admitted. "What did a woman and her squire plan to do to keep a girl safe?"

Arya never thought about that until now either.

"I would have taken her to Tarth. My House hasn't been bothered by the war and politics until

recently."

Arya heard about her father's supposed accident leading to his death. He hadn't actually done anything, he only planned to. Knowing enough about Cersei, she would most definitely kill the child of an idea in its crib. "But if I did go with you, Sansa would never have escaped the Boltons." She didn't want to begin imagining what that would have been like for her.

"I suppose it all worked out for the best it could then," Jaime commented as he ate.

"Aye. Suppose it did."

They fed the fire one last time before they went to sleep. Even with the furs they had the nights were still colder than they have been for years and they would only get colder until summer would return.

Arya's face tingled with the cold as she gazed all around at what she could. The skies were clear and there were no winds. The moon was near full and it lit the forest as much as it could. But there was always an occasional shift in the shadows. Probably a small animal like a fox or a raccoon.

She constantly shifted on her furs and tried to sleep, but she felt as restless as she had been since they all left. She couldn't stop thinking about her desires to finally wipe her list clean. "Cersei," she whispered in breaths, "the Mountain, Cersei, the Mountain."

Saying their names felt empty now. She wasn't going to be the one to kill Cersei and the only one of them who had the strength and even the desire than her to kill the Mountain was Sandor. What good was having a list if she wouldn't be the one to cross the names off? She tried to think of any new name she could add, someone who wronged her or her family enough that she might have the chance to kill.

"Can't sleep?" Jaime's voice asked quietly.

Arya turned her head over her shoulder and hadn't realized until now that Jaime was resting near her. He was gazing straight up at the night sky. "I find it hard to when a Lannister is awake behind my back."

"I wouldn't say the same for a Stark, but I would about you." He turned his head to look at her barely. "How old are you? Fifteen? Sixteen?"

"Eighteen." Arya corrected. She turned her body so she wasn't looking behind herself any longer.

"Eighteen. And how old were you when you made your first kill?"

Her first kill was the stable boy in King's Landing. She didn't mean to stick him with Needle, he just was in the sword's path when she turned. "I was almost twelve. I stuck a boy trying to turn me over to Cersei."

"Twelve years old when you first drew blood." He sounded impressed. "I was sixteen, only a squire. I decapitated an outlaw who was a part of the Kingswood Brotherhood. I saw some of the greatest fightings that day from some of the greatest knights of the Kingsguard. Ser Arthur and the Smiling Knight, Ser Barristan and Simon Toyne… Is that what you wanted when you came to King's Landing? To become a knight instead of a lady of the court like your sister?"

"Why do you care?"

"How long was it until your hopes were destroyed? When they changed from becoming a knight into an assassin who mumbles the names of who she wants to kill?" He began to laugh quietly. "I don't think Ned Stark would've ever imagined you to turn as you are-"

"Don't speak about my father."

"Why not? Is it too dishonorable to, or does it pain you to think that he would be ashamed of you for once?"

"Be quiet."

"I know what it's like to have a father disappointed in what you have become. Tywin Lannister had it in his mind from the moment I was born that I would one day be Lord of Casterly Rock. Yet, the day I was given the White Cloak was my proudest day. It was fulfilling my childhood dreams. But Tywin, no, he took it was an insult."

"Your father was a cunt," Arya spat. She wasn't even referring to the moment Jaime said.

Jaime actually laughed at that. "Yes, he was. But he was a proud man who had his beliefs in the way his child should be. And Ned Stark was the same way." Jaime began to stare off into the distance as if caught in a memory. "Twenty-five or so years ago so was Lord Eddard Stark. The biggest cunt in Westeros the day he entered the Red Keep. He called me Man without Honor when he saw Aerys lying dead on the ground. I saved an entire city from destruction and death and he thinks a vow is more important than that. And then he goes and lies to the entire country about having a bastard to save the babe's life. How was that any different?"

The difference was that Jaime saved hundreds of thousands of lives while Ned Stark only saved one. But the price paid was the same. Honor for life.

"Do you want congratulations then? Or maybe some applause for your moment of great valor?"

"If I'm entertaining you, go right ahead."

"Then what do you want? A reward? Valor? Something that will glorify you enough to cover the shit you've done?" Things like pushing her brother from a tower window or fucking his own sister. It didn't matter if Jon stripped Jaime of his titles like Kingslayer. Ser Jaime Lannister would never be able to erase those names from his life.

"It would be easier to say what I don't want instead of what I do want." Jaime was silent for a moment. "I want nothing, and at the same time, I want something. I want a purpose again. That was one of the reasons I was so proud to have been named to the Kingsguard. It gave me a purpose, something that was larger than I was. I didn't give a shit about Casterly Rock, being the Warden of the West. To me, Tyrion was better suited for those roles. But I, I wanted to serve."

That gave Arya pause. Why had she wanted to be a knight? For the adventure, surely. But there was something of the ideal that enticed her more. The belief in the nobility of her life called to mind the honor her father had ingrained in all his children. It was living a life that Ned Stark would have wanted for her.

Jaime said nothing after that, and neither did Arya. They both just let silence take place of words and drifted into a cold sleep. But Arya didn't feel tired, she felt hungry and alert.

Through eyes that were not hers she was surrounded by wolves, running swiftly through the snow. She towered over them all and outpaced them greatly as a direwolf as Nymeria would.

The stink of meat was clear in the air, a beast that fill the bellies of the wolfpack. There were others nearby that would be easy to kill, but they were not to be touched. Those animals belonged to the resting humans. The pack wasn't far from them, in fact, they had been following them ever since the one important to Nymeria left the giant stone home.

Together with her pack, Nymeria tracked a lone doe that strayed from its herd and got lost. It was old and slow, but the flesh smelled savory.

Arya had never experienced such a sensation before as Nymeria. She could feel the hunger of her wolf, the way the muscles moved and contracted, the smells of the trees and so much more.

The light of the sun hadn't even started to peak over the horizon when they all had woken from their slumber. The moon was gone and there were only stars in the darkness of the sky. They packed their gear and kicked snow over their fire to cover their tracks. An approaching snowstorm would do the rest for them and they mounted and rode their horses to their new destination, the Twins.

By the time the suns had risen and clouds filled the sky, they had made it to the fork in the Kingsroad and were on their way to the crossing. If everything went well and the weather did not worsen then they would arrive at the castle by nightfall. They would stop and rest at the nearby inn that Arya visited before she worked to liberate House Tully from Cersei's grip.

By midday, they had slowed their pace. The snows were light but long and the path they chose was becoming difficult to traverse. They had no choice but to take to the roads. They weren't cleared but there were marks of travel making it easier to go about.

Still, the horses were cold and tired and needed to rest from their endless riding since before first light.

Brienne kept to the rear with Jaime. The two of them were speaking quietly to each other that most wouldn't be able to hear but Arya could. Jaime spoke of things related to what he spoke with her about last night, but he didn't say directly to Brienne that they did. While they passed a caravan traveling in the opposite direction on the road, the sounds became muffled. After the caravan passed, Brienne was laughing heartily for all of them to hear.

Arya respected Brienne and considered her a good and loyal friend but couldn't understand why she took to Jaime Lannister's company. He was changing himself to be a better man, but it wouldn't erase the things he did. The people he killed and hurt.

The whole time she rode that day, she couldn't stop thinking about what Jaime had said to her the night before.

Those words stuck to her like a curse. Her father was dead and couldn't come back. She wished many times that he could. But those words made her wish that he couldn't. What would her father see her as if he was alive, knowing that she was an assassin, a girl who murdered an entire House and committed many gruesome and painful deaths? That she reveled in the moments that she did?

She liked to kill, but only those who deserved it. Even if it was not what a Stark was, even if that was not how she was raised or taught by her father, it had its advantages in a time of war. But after that? What would she do then? Was there anything for her after that?

She had wanted to be a knight, once. Her mother had hoped she would calm down and become a lady. Could she really? Lady Arya of House Baratheon. She would be one of the most unconventional ladies of the realm. But maybe that did fit in well with her husband. Gendry was as far from a lord as she from a noble lady, so they fit there. And for certain, none of their bannermen would dare stand against them, not with a known assassin as their liege's wife. She may even be a feared as Visenya. That appealed to her.

Sandor halted his horse forcing everyone else to do the same.

"What is it?" Brienne called out.

"Listen," Sandor growled. Everything fell silent except for something quiet but growing. Through the snow and the trees, a low rumble was rising. It was quick and repetitive, like horses galloping from behind and ahead of them.

Arya glanced around the trees and spotted a falcon in the trees staring at them oddly, like animals Bran was warging would. Now that she thought about it, she had seen that falcon before when they took to the road hours ago. It had been following them.

Instinctively, Arya's hand went to Needle's hilt. "I think someone's been watching us." She drew Needle completely and in the distance through trees that covered the road at a bend, she could see a group of riders approaching fast and steel glinting. "Into the trees!" They all guided their horses off the road but the snows were thicker here than before forcing the horses to move slowly. But as long as they weren't in the open they would stand a chance.

Once they were deep enough in, Brienne and Jaime drew their Valyrian swords but Sandor dismounted his horse before drawing Heartsbane. "Tarth, with me. You two handle whatever's coming from behind." He told Arya and Jaime.

Arya didn't argue with it when she saw that just as many riders were appearing from their rear flank with swords and spears drawn. She could make out an image on a small flag attached to one of the spears, a black sword crossed with a winter rose. To her knowledge, there wasn't a House with such a sigil, but she had seen it before in Essos. Men from the Company of the Rose, descendants of Northerners that refused to bow to Aegon the Conqueror, when Torrhen Stark did so at the Trident.

Ten men from behind and ten men in the front, against four experienced fighters with one of them being a cripple.

Arya wasn't skilled as a mounted fighter and her sword wasn't made for such combat. She dismounted her horse and took her position at the van with Jaime behind.

"What are doing?" Jaime demanded as the riders reached the trees. They were following the path the two of them paved and were coming faster than expected.

Arya's free hand snuck behind her body and grasped her Valyrian dagger. "What I do best."

When the lead rider was close enough and had nothing between him and Arya's path, she drew her dagger and threw it in one motion. The dagger twirled cleanly through the falling snow and struck deep into the sellsword's head. He toppled backward of his horse and blocked the way for those behind him, forcing them to make their way through the deep snow at slow speeds.

"Keep close to the trees " Jaime advised and was correct too. The sellswords were slowed down but some of them still had spears to throw. Not only that, but the snow was much thinner around the trunks, allowing her to move faster and be more fluid in her water dancing.

A spear came flying from the opposite direction and sank into the leg of Jaime's horse. The beast cried out as it fell and threw Jaime off. He dropped Widow's Wail into the snow and was in a daze.

Arya gave a quick look from behind and saw four of the men that were making for Sandor and Brienne break off to trap Arya and Jaime.

Against strategy and her own desire, Arya rushed from the cover of the trees to Jaime out of harm's path. It was a foolish thing to do but if she didn't then the sellswords would surround and kill him.

Arya found Jaime's arm and lifted him out of the snow. "I die saving your arse, I'm going to kill you."

Jaime's shook his dizziness away and found his strength to flee from being cornered. Widow's Wail was lost in the snow, show he drew the spear from his horse, ignoring the animal's cries of pain, and followed Arya to a better spot.

One of the men made it to them and swung his sword down at Jaime, but didn't expect to have the blade be caught by Jaime's false hand. Jaime took this chance to stick the spear under the sellsword's armpit making him bleed heavily. Moments after freeing the spear, the sellswords fell off his horse from a great loss of blood.

Arya fought against another one that got close and instead of attacking him, she cut his horse along the neck making it rear back and throwing its rider off. Before he could even get up, Arya rushed over and stuck Needle in his throat. Blood spurted from his wound and his mouth as he looked at her with surprise and anger.

Three were dead, but the other eleven had surrounded them close enough that escaping their line would be near impossible.

"Any ideas?" Jaime asked openly.

"Not this time." Arya's attention shifted to blurs in the trees behind the sellswords. She couldn't help but grin when one of the men looked where she was and nearly shit himself when Nymeria leaped from behind and taken him off his horse, her teeth tearing through his neck and decapitating him.

"Fuckin wolves!" One of the other sellswords shouted as the horses started to shift and jerk at the presence of Nymeria and her pack.

One of the men swung his sword down at one of the wolves but was met with sharp teeth around his arm before being pulled off his horse and torn into by another wolf.

"Come on!" Arya charged into the fight and attacked one of the men who dismounted. He was rather large for his age and packed great strength as he swung his sword at Arya. She parried it gracefully with Needle and practically toyed with him. He relied too much on brute strength aside from his actual skill. But she underestimated him just as he brought his boot to her chest and kicked her into the snow on her back. The air was knocked out of her lungs, but she had no time to focus on breathing when the man's sword came stabbed down at her fast. She rolled to the side, the cold steel barely missing her head.

With a quick stab, Arya stuck the pointy end of her sword into the man's knee before sticking him again where his heart was as he buckled. The Valyrian steel stuck clean through his boiled leather armor and he fell limply into the snow when she retracted her sword.

Jaime was handling himself alright, for a one-handed fighter. He bashed his golden hand into the face of his opponent and then beat him with the butt of his spear. The wolves did the rest of the work.

It was over fairly quickly after that. The sellswords were no match for a pack of wolves, led by a direwolf. They were savaged, their blood soaking the snows around the woods. Sandor and Brienne trudged through the snow to where the fight had been. Sandor's face was covered in blood that wasn't his and he was wielding Heartsbane in one hand and assisting Brienne with his free arm. She was limping slightly because of a cut she had received on her leg below the knee.

Jaime rushed over to them to assist Brienne while Arya cleaned Needle's blade of blood. She looked around at the bodies that littered the snow and checked for any signs of life. But there were none.

With the men dead, Nymeria trotted over Arya and stood face to face with her. Blood was staining the fur around Nymeria's mouth and her neck. Her large golden eyes stared directly at Arya's brown ones. But her tongue lolled out of her mouth as she took panting breaths as if offering Arya a smile.

"Thanks again, girl." Arya reached out and scratched her direwolf under her chin, gaining some favor from her. After that, Nymeria went to one of the dead horses and dragged it away in her mouth and left with the rest of her pack.

The day was near dark by the time they had gathered all the bodies and laid them to the side of the road. Brienne had bandaged a cut she took on her leg and Sandor was searching through what the sellswords had. He found some money from various regions, mostly from the Free Cities but there was some Westeros coin among what they had.

They wouldn't be leaving for a while and riding would be slowed by Brienne's injury, making their arrival for the Twins postponed.

Arya felt frustrated at herself for her lack of ability she showed today. She was a Northerner but fought like a child of summer. These men may have been exiles but they knew winter combat. It only showed how much more learning she had to become even better. Had it not been for the wolves, she and Jaime would have died.

"How the fuck did they find us?" Sandor grumbled as he ate some dry beef he looted from one of the sellswords.

"I think they had a warg among them." Arya guessed.

"Like your brothers?" Brienne asked.

"Yes. There was a falcon following us when we got on the road. I think it was keeping track of where we were." The falcon disappeared after the battle, however. Whether or not the warg was killed in the fighting was still in question.

The sound of fluttering wings got everyone's attention and made them all alert. They thought it was the falcon but it was actually a lone raven. It landed in the snow right next to Arya and cawed at her. She noticed a scroll attached to its leg and retried it. There was nothing stamped in the wax seal making it unknown as to who it was from, but Arya could guess given that a messenger raven found exactly where they were.

Arya broke the seal and unraveled it and read what was written.

"Thirteen? He's short seven." Sandor pointed out.

"He must have sent this days ago. We're far ahead of his location. Considering how many we ran into, I'd say we were lucky it was only twenty."

"But now we may have lost the element of surprise," Jaime said. "If Qyburn manages to get whispers of us, Cersei will be prepared when we get there."

"Maybe." Arya pondered about what to do. Her attention drifted over to the raven that was still standing next to her in the snow. "We won't know that for sure, but we can find out." She looked straight into the eyes of the bird. "Are you in there, Bran?"

The eyes of the raven flashed cloud white before returning to their original color. He was watching them.

"Don't worry about scouts. Make sure that Cersei or Qyburn or anyone in King's Landing doesn't know that we're coming. Can you do that?"

The raven cawed at her before taking flight into the evening sky.

"Was that a yes?" Brienne asked, just as confused as everyone else was.

"Well, it wasn't a no," Jaime said.

"Bran will watch out for us," Arya told them confidently. "Bran and his own little birds." Then she looked to Jaime. "We need to keeping moving. There's probably more sellswords out there and with the mess we have here, word is bound to reach King's Landing that the enemy is coming for them." Arya got to her feet. "But we need to get moving. Can you ride?" She asked Brienne.

"I can ride." With help from Jaime, Brienne stood up but kept herself leaning on her good leg.

Arya was the first to mount her horse. While the others did, she rode over to were Nymeria and her pack was feasting. The horse was skeptical to go any further when she got close.

"Nymeria!"

The great direwolf perked her head up at the call of her name and came over to Arya's horse.

"Let's go, girl."

Nymeria craned her head back and howled beautifully for all around to hear her. Her packed ceased eating and joined in the howl, creating a melody of the night. When they finished, Nymeria led her pack ahead of Arya and the others.

Arya whipped the reins of her horse and galloped after them. Sandor followed behind her closely while Jaime stayed with Brienne as the set out for the Twins.


	85. Daenerys XV & Edric III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Everybody. I hope you all had a good holiday season. Big shout out to me Beta MSquared79. She really knows how to bust the kinks out of the chapter and make it all the better. I hope you enjoy.

Daenerys

Despite the demise of the Night King and his power, the coldness of winter did not yield. Daenerys had experienced a winter once before when she was a child living with Viserys in the Free Cities, but that was a light chill compared to what struck the North. It would still be many years before the sun would shine strong enough to melt what felt from the sky.

The storm came as a surprise to most except the Free Folk. They could read the signs days before it happened and if it wasn't for them than many in the castle wouldn't have been prepared for it. The cold winds outside bit like a wolf and the snows began to pile up to heights nearly as tall as a person could stand and they would only keep rising.

The windows of the castle were bared to keep the cold out and the little food they had was distributed lightly among everyone. Some of the Free Folk and Northmen braved a journey to hunt but it had been too long since they left.

Yet against odds, a lone raven from the south had come with a message from Bran, reporting on their progress.

Daenerys was with Sansa and Rickon in the Lord's chambers. Gilly was watching over Matthias and Aemon for her while she had to attend to her duties. Maester Wolkan joined them along with the new Captain of the Winterfell Guard and acting Master at Arms, Harden. Harden was one of the last survivors of the Red wedding left alive. He joined the Brotherhood without Banners after the massacre but returned when Jon and Sansa raised an army to fight the Boltons. He was seasoned and only a few years older than Jon.

They all gathered at a table in the room. Daenerys, Sansa, and Rickon were the only ones seated when Sansa broke the seal and read aloud what was written.

_-We have crossed Moat Cailin and are near the borders of the North. Jon and I have each attempted to reach Drogon's mind to bring him with us, but he is in great anger. As for why we do not know. We will be arriving at Harrenhal within the fortnight and King's Landing in another after that._

_-Bran_

Daenerys could see that Sansa didn't like reading that they were getting closer to the border. Jon may be a Targaryen but he was also a Stark, and Stark's have not favored well going south for the past few years. She didn't want him or Bran to leave at the worrying feeling that something would happen to them like what happened to their father and eldest brother.

"Everything sounds alright," Rickon noted.

"So far," Sansa replied. "As long as Bran is with them, I doubt there will be any surprises." Still, things going exactly to plan was a rarer thing in the world than dragons. But the anticipation of that chance was like standing on the edge of a cliff or the Wall, waiting for something to push you one direction or the other.

Drogon's behavior was a fine example of that. The connection the dragons had with Daenerys was a kind that allowed her to feel what they did. Ever since Jon departed, all Daenerys felt from Drogon was anger and she couldn't understand why. Her attempts to connect with him were in almost in vain. The only thing that changed was her understanding of what kind of anger it was. It wasn't rage or wrath, but more into the category of him being upset or disappointed.

"I hope the King or Lord Brandon figures it out soon," Harden said. "We've had word that the dragon's been scaring some folk near Castle Cerwyn and the Crofter's Village in the northwest. There's been no killing, but people are starting to grow afraid that there might be."

Daenerys thought back to when her dragons had grown out of her control in Mereen. The death tolls were low, but there shouldn't have been any, to begin with. She couldn't let that happen again. "Send a reply to them at once. Tell them I will keep trying to do what I can.

"At once, your grace." Maester Wolkan swiftly left to tend to his duties.

"What about our food stores?" Sansa asked. "Has the there been a final inventory?"

"Yes, my lady." Harden's face hardened before he told them. "With what we salvaged and what wasn't burned by wildfire, we have enough food for less than a year."

With what they had before, there was enough food for half a decade thanks to the support of the Reach, but that was all they could spare.

"We can't ask the other Houses to give any more than they already have," Sansa informed. "We'll have to search for another source."

For once, there was a way out of the mess they were put in. "We can look east for that answer. The Bay of Dragons is far enough south that the colds of winter don't reach. We can establish a trade for grain and other food."

"I'm not certain we can afford to, your grace," said Harden. "The coffers of Winterfell lost much to fund King Robb in the War of the Five Kings."

"We have enough," Sansa informed. "The coffers of the Dreadfort had much and we took what was owed."

"And if the crown needs to, it shall assist with the burden of fundings," Daenerys said. There was much that the rebellious Master's had that they no longer needed.

"It doesn't matter if have enough " Rickon interjected. "Euron Greyjoy's fleet is still out there and until it's dealt with the seas are unsafe." He slouched in his chair. "Until the war is won, we can do nothing but wait."

As irritating as it was, Rickon was right. While Sellswords and wildfire were in King's Landing and Pirates roamed the seas, they couldn't take much action except to fight. "We may not be able to send a large group, but we can sneak enough ships through their lines. Both fleets of ships will be gathering for battle and the narrow sea is big enough for an envoy to sail by unseen."

"Yes, that can work." Sansa agreed. "Harden, see to it that a message is sent to White Harbor. We'll send five ships to go and return with they can before we're able to safely send more."

"At once, my lady." Harden excused himself from the room.

"If that's all," said Rickon, "I'm going to find something else to do since outside is too cold." Given that most of what could be done was outside, there wouldn't be much but Rickon left all the same. Sansa got up to follow after him, but Daenerys stopped her.

"Sansa," Daenerys called, "could you stay for a moment?"

"Yes, of course." While the others left, Sansa remained seated next to her.

Daenerys waited until the closed behind Rickon to speak. "Sansa, I meant to speak with you earlier, but the chance seemed to slip away."

Sansa didn't respond. In fact, she retreated into herself, knowing what was going to be said.

Daenerys knew the morning after Sansa had left to see to Edric that more than what was intended had happened. It was surprising to her given what she was told happened with Ramsay Bolton. Such acts leave scars that can not be easily mended and healed. "I won't prod if that's what you wish. But if you want to talk about it…"

"If I had done what I did with anyone else, I wouldn't have to. But it was with him. I just don't want to sound like I'm making excuses or justifications for why either."

"Then I won't think of them as such. Just try telling me what happened first."

"First? What happened first was I saw him duel Jon at the Dragonpit." The duel that won Jon the crown of Aegon the Conqueror.

"I remember that duel. They both used castle forged sword instead of Valyrian steel to avoid hurting the other." That never sense to Daenerys. Castle forged steel was just as sharp but not as durable. "Edric wanted us to take in his son, Arthur, as our ward if you could beat Jon."

That got a smile out of Sansa which was something to start with. "I don't why, but I just found myself drawn to him after that."

"He's handsome for one, a skilled fighter, noble, if he were a knight I would consider him a gallant one."

"Well, yes there are those things but I meant… I found myself drawn to him time and time again. We would talk from time to time and it felt wonderful."

"To have a friend among allies?" Daenerys guessed. The two were never always the same, especially in these times.

"Yes. But he was married and that is all I wanted him to be. A friend. But after the bodies were brought me just… got carried away."

"If you're trying to tell yourself why then getting carried away isn't a good enough answer." Daenerys took Sansa's hands, trying to comfort her but also counsel her. "Are you hoping to use this against Edric somehow?"

"What? No, of course not. I wouldn't ever do something like that."

"Are you planning on blaming him for what happened?"

"No."

"Then if not those, are you doing this in hopes to be his mistress?"

"Daenerys, what are trying-"

"Did you enjoy it?" Daenerys looked at her straight in the eyes but kept a calm expression about her.

"I… I did."

"Was it to comfort him from his grief?"

"I think so."

"Did you do it because you're in love with him?"

Sansa didn't answer immediately. Her eyes fell away from Daenerys, pondering for an answer. "I don't know. It just happened and I didn't want it to stop. Daenerys, before we met, I married to Ramsay Bolton. The things he did to me still scar my body without marks. They scar my mind. It felt good. It made me… forget about how I first felt it with Ramsay."

"It felt good to feel loved instead of used?"

Sansa nodded silently.

"There's nothing wrong with that. If anything you should think better of yourself. Such experiences are rare for women in our position."

"And that's what worries me. In my position, I should not be doing things such as that."

"You're starting to sound Tyrion now, and not the part of him that is enjoyable to listen to." Despite her saying that Tyrion did always work so that everyone could be satisfied. And Daenerys wouldn't mind one of his witty remarks right now. "But I understand your concern. We have to think about what we do, about every consequence of our actions. But I want to understand why you're worried."

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"There's nothing to worried about."

"Daenerys, I laid with him just days after his wife died."

"If you think yourself a whore seducing a widowed lord, then your head is in the wrong place. What you did was pull him out of his grief. I heard about how he was acting before you went to him. And now he's near to who he was before he saw his wife's body. If you're worried what people will think of you if they find out, then you're being foolish. Sex isn't just a form of lust, it's love. The Dothraki do it openly before others beneath the open sky."

Sansa's eyes widened and her brow shot up hearing that. "My mother raised me to be a proper lady. To be dutiful and pure. I don't want to ignore what she taught me to be."

"And as a lady, is it not your duty to care for those under your protection? I'm not saying go lay with everyone in grief, but to have that much of a bond with Edric to do that is a great thing for the two of you. You feel uneasy now, but go to him and I promise that when the sun tonight, you will not feel a shred of the shame you feel now."

"How can you be sure?"

Daenerys smiled at her. "I've been keeping an eye Edric these past few days. He's been caring his children, helping them through their sadness. If it weren't for you, they would be just as lost as their father." Daenerys let go of her good sister's hands. "Go."

Sansa looked at Daenerys deep in the eyes, almost looking for the utmost assurity that she being honest with her. She stood up and bowed respectfully to her queen before leaving.

Sansa looked better than she had in the past few days before she left and it gladdened Daenerys to see it. They both have experienced their share of times people had sought to use them by acting as trustworthy people, so much that it became a surprise when someone genuinely honest came along.

Daenerys's attention was turned to the window where a distant roar of Drogon echoed through. She still had to find out what it was that was making act as he did. But as far as how long it would take, she had no idea.

* * *

Edric

Edric's thoughts lingered on what happened that night. He rarely remembered the times when he got drunk and what he did in his state of mind. Unfortunately, that night was one of them. He remembered everything that happened. He despised himself for his attitude towards his own daughter and even more so when he and Sansa had spent the night in his bed.

It wasn't that he was just widowed and moving on to the next woman that bothered him, it was how much he enjoyed the night, how much he enjoyed Sansa. The feel of her skin, the smell of her hair.

Edric couldn't resist a chuckle when he remembered what Ashara said to her at their first meet. ' _You have a very soft bottom.'_  She wasn't wrong, it really did feel like a freshly baked lemon cake.

Edric shook the thoughts out of his head. He shouldn't be acting like this right now. He had been bedridden for days and not once could he think of how to confront Sansa about all of this.

"Papa, what's wrong?" Ashara asked. She was lying down next to him on his bed and Gerold was on the opposite side of him but he had fallen asleep.

Edric had gotten so carried away in his thoughts that he lost his place in the story he was reading to his two children. "Sorry, my love. I was thinking about something. Now, where was I?"

"Ser Duncan is about to fight against the bad knight."

"Ah, yes." Edric scanned the pages of the book and found the words that began the passage of Ser Duncan the Tall acting as Eustace Osgrey's champion in a trial by combat against Ser Lucas Longich who was Rohanne Webber's champion.

"Ser Duncan sat upon his warhorse, Thunder, sword drawn and shield raised, waiting on the opposite side of the river while Ser Lucas did the same but with with a halberd instead of a sword and shield. Any onlooker would think that Ser Lucas would be the one to claim the title of victor. Ser Duncan only wore a dress of mail and few pieces of armor over it while Ser Lucas was decorated in black steel armor. Before the fight began, Ser Duncan chanted his prayer of battle." Edric turned to his daughter. "Do you remember what it is?"

"Oak and Iron, guard me well, or else I'm dead, and doomed to hell." Ashara couldn't memorize her numbers or letters yet, but when it came to the stories, she would remember everything told to her. She held onto Edric's arm, both excited and worried about what would happen next. "Is Ser Dunc gonna win?"

"Let's find out." Edric continued to read. "Both of the knights charged forth into the waters of the river and sounds of splashing were replaced by the clanging of steel. The currents of the water pushed and pulled at the horses, making the knights' attacks be imprecise and difficult to perform. Thunder had acted for his master and kicked Ser Lucas of his own steed, but thrown Ser Duncan into the water at the same time."

"Oh no!"

Edric chuckled at his daughter's enthusiasm. "Both knight's vanish beneath the current. Only glimpses of armor rose up from beneath the surface only to be dragged down again. Until finally, the waters ran red and Egg the squire rushed into the water himself and pulled his master. Ser Duncan was unconscious but alive and Ser Lucas dead before drowned."

"Yay! I knew Ser Dunc would win. What happens next?"

Edric closed the book and set it aside on his nightstand. "We'll find out tonight before bed. Right now, you need to eat." Edric lightly shook Gerold awake. "Gerold, Gerold!" Gerold cracked his eyes opened and groaned himself awake. "Go with Asha and find Ser Raymen and get some food." He helped his son climb over the bed. Arthur remained asleep in his crib, hopefully for another hour or two.

"Aw, do we have to?" Ashara asked.

"If you want to finish the story, then yes."

"Awight papa." Ashara slumped off of Edric's bed, disappointed but also excited to finish the story. She held Gerold's hand and together they made for the door. When they opened it, Edric was surprised by who was waiting outside. "Hello, Sansa!" Ashara chirped.

"Sasa," Gerold repeated or at least attempted to.

"Hello, you two," Sansa said. "Where are you both heading to?"

"We're gonna go get some supper," Ashara told her. "Do you want to come with us?"

"That sounds wonderful. But I need to have a word with your father first."

"Did he do something bad again?" Edric frowned when he was reminded of what he did to Ashara when she wanted to see him.

"No, he didn't. I just need to have a talk with him."

"Alright. Bye bye!"

"Bye!" Gerold repeated.

Ashara led Gerold into the hallway, leaving Sansa standing alone. "May I come in?" She asked, remembering her courtesies.

"You may enter."

She closed the door behind her and found it hard to look Edric in the eye, but she forced herself to.

"Lady Stark."

"Could I have a word?"

"I would like that if we could."

Sansa took a seat next to his bed, the same seat she sat in before they had their night together. "How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Physically or mentally?"

"Both."

"Well, my chest is healing much better now, but the pain lingers. As for everything else, better than I was but at the same time terrible." He took a deep breath almost to breathe in the pain he felt but ready to exhale it all out. He looked over to Dawn. The sword was leaning against his dresser next to First Light. "Dawn had been my family's ancestral sword since before the Age of Heroes. Even before there were knights, to wield Dawn a Dayne had to be worthy of the weapon and the title the Sword of the Morning. I dreamed that I would be the next… but I have never more wrong in my life. I used that sword in my rage to butcher men, not kill them. I vented my anger at my own children using my sadness as an excuse."

"Edric…"

He turned back to look at Sansa. "My father told me that it is not the steel that is the Sword, but the man. I became rusted and broken for a time. And the only thing that could fix me was you." Edric had finally noticed that for every word Sansa had said, he replied with twenty. "I'm sorry, I've been babbling." Then he looked to her, noticing the uneasiness she seemed to be.

"Edric, do you remember what happened when I came to see you?"

Edric nodded to her. "I do. And I remember what happened after."

"I am so sorry for that. One could blame the wine as an excuse but you were the only one drinking. I knew full well what I did and I'm sorry. There's not more I can say besides that."

"Sansa," Edric started. "I don't think you went through with it for the wrong reasons. In fact, I think you did for the best ones. I will never stop loving my wife or the children she bore me. When I saw her body, I lost all feeling of that until the night we had. It made me remember who I was and what I still have in this world. So I like to say thank you."

Sansa had a look of silent shock in her face. She was surprised, but then she started to laugh a little.

"What's so funny?"

"I just didn't think this would go how I wanted. I thought you would be disgusted at me." She looked off into the distance, gathering her thoughts. "I love to be with you. The moments we have had together, I cherish them. But going as far I did, if I was faced with that again I'm not sure that I would. I've had this mindset about everything someone does is to get a step ahead of someone. But when we were together, even if it was just to talk, I didn't feel any of that."

"I can imagine that your life in King's Landing put you on edge."

"You have no idea." She looked back at him. "But I want to be clear, I didn't mean to do what I did because you were no longer bond in marriage."

"What happened, happened. We can't change it. All we can do now is figure out what to do because of it." Edric paused in his words, almost upset at himself for the decision he made. "I think I am falling for you, Sansa Stark. But I don't know if that's what I need feeling right now. I don't want you to be sorry for what happened, Sansa. But I need time to understand what I should do, and then we should do."

"We might not have longer when the winner of the war rises victorious."

"No, we might not. May I ask what you will do after?"

"Well, depending on how things turn out, flee to Essos and just get my children away from all of this or go to High Hermitage in Dorne. My household will live there until I can rebuild Starfall. But until that is determined, could I ask that you allow me and family to stay in Winterfell? I want my children to be safe and this is probably the safest place to be."

"You're welcome to stay as long as you need."

She was always one to impress with her hospitality. It made Edric feel worse with his own and those who served under him. They had been welcomed into the North but only managed to disrupt things constantly.

"I think I should go now. Supper will be served soon." It was a poor excuse to leave, but Edric didn't care. Sansa gave him one last smile, only a small one, before she took her leave from him. Before she left the door, she looked back at him. "Thank you for understanding."

When she was gone, Edric wasn't sure how he felt. He was glad that they had talked and made peace with each other in a sense, but he also felt regretful that things happened as they did. He wished things could have been better between them. But he had a feeling almost like a premonition that this wasn't the end of it. In fact, he hoped it wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you may ask, why wasn't this just a Sansa POV since it revolves around her? Because it was easier to write this way and she just got one. I hope I handled her and Edric's moving on well enough. now SHOW ME THE MONEY!


	86. Jon XXIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's number 86! we only have several more chapters before this is finished! Woo! Big thanks to MSquared79 for all her help. She is an amazing beta and none of this would be as good without her help.
> 
> Announcement! After a few reviews about the beginning being so unoriginal and me rereading it and agreeing with them, I have decided not to rewrite the story, just the chapters themselves. Scenes will be adjusted to be different but get the same point across and it won't be as copy and paste as it is. I think the work on them will be done by the chapter after the next chapter.
> 
> As of 1/21/2019 chapters 1-11 have been revised. I recommend rereading Ch11, the Battle of the Bastards. Much better than it was before
> 
> Don't forget to leave a review and enjoy!

Jon

Jon had only seen the Harrenhal once before when he was returning from the armistice to Winterfell on the back of Rhaegal. They didn't go near the castle, but even as far as they were Harrenhal was enormous. It paled structurally compared to the Wall but there was a similar presence both had. And given that it was half melted stone, the original structure must have been a sight to behold and envied.

When the armies were miles away, Harrenhal sat on the horizon and looked like five large candles without flame and hardened wax drizzling down the side. It was an ugly structure, but still mighty all the same and acted as both home and tomb for the dozen of Houses that flew their banners over its walls after Harren the Black and his line were wiped out.

There were still remains of bodies littering the ground within and without the castle. A dozen heads mounted on spikes were nothing but cold skulls which were gathered and buried, giving the remains of the dead some peace at least. Withering Banners of Houses Lannister and Bolton were found in places they were left and forgotten, but it meant little since they were put to use as fuel for fire.

The armies made camp surrounding the entirety of the castle, but the Unsullied were the only ones along with half a dozen men of each realm that were stationed within Harrenhal itself. The giants however preferred privacy and took to the woods nearby with their mammoths. They were intrigued greatly by the land.

They would only be at the castle for a few days before they would continue on. But they meant to delay their progress. After what Bran had said about Arya and the others, they needed to stop and be cautious to the eyes that were watching. But it was all part of a plan to capture one of Cersei's scouting parties. Bran could see everything whenever he wanted to, but he didn't know what he was meant to look for when he did.

Tonight, the leaders of the main factions of the Targaryen Army would meet in the Kingspire tower with their king. The war room was too small for a hundred lords, so it would be simplified greatly.

Jon stood at the head of a large table covered with a large map of King's Landing and the surrounding lands. There were small map pieces to mark the many forces that made up the army, but to avoid needing a piece for every House and sigil there were only heads of dragons, direwolves, horses, and Unsullied helms that represented all sworn and fighting for House Targaryen, not including the Iron Fleet commanded by Yara and Theon. Representing Cersei's forces were Lion heads for those who were foolishly still loyal to her and skulls for the sellsword companies. There were more skulls than lions, far more.

In the war room with Jon to discuss the battle plans were Bran, Ser Davos, Tyrion, Ser Bronn, Lord Royce, and Sam. Bran was seated closest to where the city walls were, pointing out all the defenses and traps that he could see in his visions or patrols with his flock of ravens. Ghost lay in the corner of the room, resting and waiting for his master, while Ser Will waited outside the room for his king.

He moved a finger to the western side of the city, pointing at the fields outside the gates. "Cersei's placed hidden spike pits all across the field. I can see every one of them but it won't matter to everyone who will be charging straight to them." he traced his fingers done a line to the side of where he pointed. "But there are also several paths free of spikes here, here, here, and here. They're wide enough that ten men could ride side by side." He pointed out two that led to the center of where Cersei's army would be and two that went off to the side. "But the center is clear for a large force. They plan to attack with a spearhead formation of the Long Lances and follow with their war elephants."

"We won't make a dent in her defense with only attacks of ten men at the front." Lord Royce said. "We'll need to find a way to force them out of the little nest."

"I'd imagine Dragonfire would do just that." Said Bronn. "Only trouble is, Cersei's got scorpions on the walls and the roofs in the city."

"Fifty-three, to be exact," Bran said.

"And If a dragon can be brought down with just one on the field, fifty-three will do just that and keep the beasts dead."

"Then we'll have to use our own ordinance to take out as many of them as we can." Jon decided.

"What ordnance?" Bronn asked.

"The giants. I've seen them shoot men on the top of the Wall from the bottom. If we can get them in a position that gives them a good view…"

"Here," Sam pointed out an area on the map. "I've been to King's Landing before and there's a trail leading to a collection of trees. It comes above the level of the city. The distance should be the same."

"It's about a hundred feet farther," Bran said,

Jon ordered. "Will this place be in the range of Cersei's catapults?"

"Aye. So we'll need to take their attention elsewhere."

"The Dothraki will take the van against Cersei. We'll have the mammoth riders joined them and punch a hole for our forces to spill in. I'll lead the dragons to where that isn't and set fire to as many as I can. During that, we'll have the Westerosi cavalry split into two forces and attack at both flanks. We'll trap them with nowhere to escape." Jon moved a direwolf piece to each of the flanks of the lions. Then, he pulled four lions from the front forward to meet seven horses up front.

"They'll have the city behind them." Ser Davos reminded. "If they get trapped, they only have to retreat into the gates and close them. We don't have the means to break into the city."

"I don't think there's a door or wall in the world that can withstand Dragonfire. This castle should be proof enough." Lord Royce said.

"While the wildfire lingeries beneath the city, I think we can't risk getting the dragons near. We'll tear them down with the mammoths. No gate can withstand them." Jon looked outside and could see that it was pitch black. "We'll continue this in the morning before we leave. Get some rest." Everyone but Tyrion, Bronn, and Ser Davos left. While there was still much about the battle to prepare for, there were still other things that had to be discussed.

Jon didn't lift his gaze from the map though. He couldn't take his mind off the battle. He had fought in only four in his life. At the Wall against the Wildings, the Battle of the Bastards, the Ocean of Fire, and the War for the Dawn. Every time the odds were against them.

"A wise man once said 'A troubled man containing his thoughts ought best to be speaking them, or he might go mad.'" Tyrion quipped.

"'A wise man', Lord Tyrion, or yourself'?" came the question from Davos but in a light tone.

"Can they not be both?" Tyrion asked back.

"For you? No." Bronn said. "A wise man would've paid me after I did my job. You still haven't, unless this my castle now."

"You want this one? It's been cursed since the time of the Conqueror. No, no, I have a better idea," Tyrion replied. "Castamere will be yours for joining our ranks and all the silver and gold beneath it for commanding our forces. That's far more income than this place will bring with you as its owner. When the war is over and you've fulfilled your duties promised."

Jon had a feeling they might soon get wrapped up in their witty repartee, so he brought their attention to the map with his. "There are more than twice as many tokens on the map for us than there are for Cersei. When you look at it plainly, we have the victory. But she has had months to prepare when we have had weeks and weapons we don't."

Ser Davos stood to Jon's right. "It's nearly an even field."

Tyrion said, "When it comes to the battle, I'm certain that victory will ours."

"Aye, but at the cost of how many?" Jon asked. "The War with the Night King was all that mattered because it was an ultimatum. Fight to live or die trying. This is just a fight for power."

"Wars have never been clean of blood." Ser Davos informed. "That's the hard truth of it. Best we can do is make sure there's a damn good reason to have it spilled in the first place."

"I think overthrowing a mad woman on the Iron Throne is more than enough," Bronn replied. "If you want the war over, just take a dragon in the night and burn the damn place. It's dishonorable, but it keeps you alive."

"Bronn," Tyrion glared at him, "leave."

Bronn shrugged and left without another word which was nice to not hear.

Tyrion turned his focus back to the subject at hand. "Cersei may call herself queen, but the only thing she rules over is a single city and a few foolish Houses."

"I still think you shouldn't let them leave," Davos said. "We could've kept their leaders as hostages until it was over."

"I gave them the choice of mercy or justice." Jon reminded. "If they wish to still serve Cersei, then that's theirs to make."

There was a still silence between the three of them at the mention of the wildfire. "The battle will be ours, there's no doubt," Tyrion said. "But the real one will be stopping Cersei from lighting the wildfire."

Jon shook his head. "I believe in the others. They'll make in time."

"So do I, but will they kill my sister in time? With everything so laid out before us, it's hard to accept that the city may be lost and the people with it."

"We won't lose it."

"I have enough faith to think we won't. But we must prepare for the possibility that we might and that the people will die. It's a cruel move for Cersei, but she will not hesitate to do it. If King's Landing falls, we will fail."

Ser Davos interjected. "If the people die, then we fail. King's Landing is just a city. Maybe we could think of a way to get the people out before it's too late for them."

"Perhaps," Tyrion said, "but get them out how and where will they go? You're a good smuggler, but even you can't think of a way to get half a million people out there without being noticed."

"No, I can't. But we can get as many out as we can."

"Aye." Jon agreed. "We can do so much and at the same time so little. So we do what we can."

"But the question remains of how." Tyrion pointed out.

"I'm still working on that. No matter what we do, Qyburn's little birds might hear of it and tell him. Maybe if we sent ravens, people might be more silent about it. We have just the person who can do it."

"Let's send one to Cersei as well," Jon said. "We'll request a parley with her the day before the battle and give her something else to look at while the people escape."

"I don't think she'll accept." Tyrion guessed.

"She will. She knows I won't have her killed the moment she steps foot into our territory." And Jon wanted to see her once more to get the measure of her. She was imposing at the Dragonpit but after what he's heard of her recently she is less than a fool and greater than madness. "It's late, will talk more of this before we leave tomorrow."

"Hopefully we'll have more ideas by then," Tyrion commented. "Sleep well, your grace." He and Davos bowed before excusing themselves.

"Ghost, to me." Ghost immediately followed after Jon when the left the room and they were joined by Ser Will.

Jon was tired but didn't feel the rush to sleep. He wanted to have some time to himself.

Looking at Harrenhal up close made Jon think about King's Landing. What would it look like if the city was engulfed in the wildfire that lay beneath it? Would it be charred, melted, or turned into nothing but smoke and ash? Whatever the answer, there would be nothing left but a giant scar on the land to be haunted by the hundreds of thousands that would perish in the devastation.

Jon took to his own company, save for his escort of Ser Will Cole and Ghost. It was actually Ser Lonnel's shift, but at his request had taken to practice his fighting with Ser Jorah. As a crannogman of the swamplands, he was a skilled fighter but as a knight, he had much to learn. He had taken to learning how to use a shortsword effectively before switching to a broadsword.

Jon was at a part of the castle that wasn't crowded by men. It was a balcony overlooking the Godswood and God's Eye. He found this place in the afternoon when they first arrived days ago. When there was light, he could just barely see the Isle of Faces.

Being at Harrenhal felt strange to Jon. He had not seen the ghosts that were said to haunt the castle except his direwolf, but there was a presence here that reminded him of the crypts of Winterfell. Not only that but knowing that this place is where everything that threw the world into chaos began adding to the feeling. This is where his mother and father met for the first time. This is where they first fell in love. Thinking about it started to make him curious.

"Ser Will." Jon turned to face his Kingsguard.

"Yes, your Grace?" He stood half a foot taller than Jon and didn't wear his helmet tonight. His face was gruntish, but that may have been because of the black leather eyepatch he wore over his left eye.

"You fought for House Targaryen in Robert's Rebellion, didn't you?"

"I did. I fought in several battles in fact. I fought Summerhall, Ashford, and the Trident. After the Prince had fallen, I chose exile with many others."

"And did you ever fight with Rhaegar?"

"If you mean if I fought next to him, then no. I hardly knew the Prince. The only things I ever knew were things I heard and what I saw at tourneys I jousted in." Ser Will walked over to the railing of the balcony and leaned back on it. "From what I heard, Rhaegar was a great fighter, loved by every woman and sometimes snuck out of his castle to play his harp to the common folk of King's Landing. If you knew him well, you were more likely to find him in a library than a training yard."

"What about the times you saw of him?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. At tourneys, he fought in less melees than he did jousts."

"Fewer." Jon corrected.

"What?"

"Nothing. You were saying?"

"I came close to facing Prince Rhaegar once at a Tourney at Storm's End. But Jason Mallister had a truer aim than I did. Knocked me off my horse and onto my arse." Ser Will started to laugh at the memory. "I would've been part of the Tourney here had I not had to deal with some poachers on my family's land with my brother. After that, nothing until the Rebellion made me venture from home."

What Ser Will knew of Rhaegar was most of what anyone his age would know. Jon hadn't expected him to know Rhaegar personally. In fact, hearing things about Rhaegar from someone who hardly knew him was intriguing. The only thing was, there wasn't much to be heard from Ser Will.

"And what did you think about him when you heard the rumors of what he did to Lyanna Stark."

Ser Will eyed Jon curiously. "Do I need to worry what my answer will be?"

"No. Knowing the truth relieves much of what we all thought we knew to me. You may speak freely."

"In truth, I felt sorry for the man before the disgust. Whatever kind of man who has everything and anything he could want to kidnap and rape a woman truly has nothing. I heard about Princess Elia's frailty, but even so for a man to be driven to do that obviously isn't satisfied with his life. But then the ravens flew and came calling me to arms. I almost joined the rebels, but I swore an oath to answer to my king, not a usurper."

"And what about when you heard of the truth?"

"Same answer, but without the disgust. Only the pity."

Jon wasn't hurt by that. He almost felt the same way. Until the day he was told the truth about himself, he had resentment towards Rhaegar and sorrow for Lyanna. When he was told, he thought his feelings would change but they didn't. He felt a longing to meet them so his feelings might change. How was he supposed to love a man and a woman he never met?

"Thank you for honest, Ser Will. I'd like some time to myself for the rest of the evening."

"Yes, your grace. I trust your wolf is protection enough?"

Jon smirked at the knight. "The best I've ever had."

"Hmm, then I have some expectations to exceed in my service." Ser Will took his leave, leaving Jon alone with Ghost.

It was quiet. No sounds except the winds whistling quietly through branches of trees in the Godswood. Everything was so still. It was the first time the castle actually felt haunted.

The silence was broken by a lone raven cawing out as it perched itself on the stone railing. It looked directly at Jon and cawed out again.

"Bran, is that you?"

The raven flew off, down into the godswood.

'I'll take that as a yes. Ghost, to me." He followed the raven to the weirwood tree, unsurprised at seeing his brother beneath it. His eyes were white, as they were when he was caught in a vision. Jon waited patiently, but Ghost was having none of it after a few minutes. He went over and licked Bran's hand.

That seemed to bring his brother back to the present. "It's a sight to behold, isn't it?" Bran turned his gaze to the Kingspyre Tower. Even half melted it stood above the rest. "This is where your parents met, you know."

"I know." Jon nodded. "I just don't know how they did. What we all thought we knew was so muddled and away from the truth." Every written record about what happened here was based on things unknown that led to a lie.

"You want me to tell you what happened?"

Jon was unsure of how to answer. "Yes, but at the same time, I'd rather not hear it from you. I don't mean it to be rude, but I might become envious of you to the point of hating you for being able to see what I can't but desperately want to."

Bran showed a smile surprisingly. "I understand. So would like me to show you instead?"

"What?" Jon nearly laughed when Bran asked. "I'm not like you or Rickon, Bran. Warging is all I can do. I can't look into the past like you can."

Bran looked up at the night sky, still smiling. "We may not have the same father, but we share the same blood. Our House is strong with the magic of the Old Gods. You can't do it by yourself, but I can help you. I just need something to help me first. Or rather someone."

"Someone? Who are you talking about?" Jon was deeply interested now. If Bran could actually do this, then he would be able to finally see his mother.

Bran's eyes turned pure white and his expression became blank. Moments later, the sound of wings cutting through wind became clear and Lyarras swooped down into a clearing. She crawled past the trees to the weirwood, to Bran and Jon.

Bran returned to himself when Lyarras brought her head to him. "Did you know that dragons are the greatest sources of magic? Not just breathing fire and living for centuries, but filling people with wonder and awe unlike anything in the world. And at the same time, terror and hopelessness." He placed his hand on Lyarras's nuzzle and pet her softly before holding his free hand to Jon. "What would you like to see first?"

Jon had no idea what he wanted to see. He never thought that this kind of chance would be given to him. "The first time my mother and father met." Jon reached out his hand and took Bran's. The moment he did, everything seemed to feel strange and he was pulled into a forest. It was no longer night but day, and summer instead of winter.

Bran walked past Jon which was surprising to see. "This way," Bran said.

Jon followed after Bran and walked with him through the trees. The ground was grassless and filled with many plants growing into the spring season. The trees were just starting to show their leaves.

"Where are we?" Jon asked.

"A few miles west of Harrenhal. Look over there." Bran pointed to a small rise in the land and immediately a rider in full plate armor appeared. He carried a lance and a shield with a weirwood painted on it. But unlike most weirwoods that had a sad face, the shield sported a smiling weirwood, or rather a laughing one. "I give you the Knight of the Laughing Tree."

Jon knew the story of this knight. He appeared at the Tourney of Harrenhal and unhorsed three men from House Frey, House Haigh, and House Blount, respectively. The Mad King thought the mystery knight was an assassin and ordered his head to be brought, but the knight disappeared with no trace except for his shield.

"And the challenger, the Crowned Prince Rhaegar Targaryen." After Bran said that, a rider in black and red armor decorated with dragons rode from the same direction the knight of the Laughing Tree had come.

Jon was speechless when Rhaegar removed his helm and stared down the mystery knight. "You can unhorse knights easy enough. What about someone who knows what they're doing?"

The mystery knight held his lance aloft and readied himself to charge. Rhaegar put his helmet back on and prepared just the same. With no signal, the two knights charged for the other, each of them lifting their lance for the strike.

Jon noticed that Rhaegar's lance was significantly short than the mystery knight's was. It was war lance, not a tourney lance. It wouldn't shatter as easy and packed a heavy blow when struck. But it was four feet shorter. If Rhaegar was going to make this work, he going to take a direct hit and hope he wouldn't be knocked off his horse.

The Mystery knight's lance struck square on Rhaegar's shield, forcing his body to turn but he was able to keep his aim true and his lance struck the mystery knight's shield and grazed to his chest. The force knocked both Rhaegar and the knight off of their horses and to the ground.

The horses galloped away without their riders. Both Rhaegar and the mystery groaned as they tried to get to their feet.

Rhaegar drew his sword when he got up and pointed it at the mystery knight. "Yield now, and I will show you mercy. I wouldn't want to kill a man as challenging as you.

What no one realized until now was that the mystery knight's helmets had twisted and gotten stuck, leaving him half blind. He tried to turn it back into place, but the damn thing wouldn't budge.

Jon enjoyed what he was witnessing, but irritated that it was not what he asked for. He faced his brother. "Bran, I asked you to take me-"

"Look." Bran interrupted.

Jon looked back at Rhaegar and saw that he sheathed his sword and was attempting to help the mystery knight.

"Hold still!" Rhaegar demanded.

"No! Don't!" A muffled voice sounded.

"I've almost got it!" Rhaegar pulled with all his strength and the helmet finally came loose and off the Mystery Knight's head. What shocked him and Jon was when a mess of long black hair flowed out of the helmet. Hair that was attached to a woman.

She back away from Rhaegar and held her shield in front of her face, but it was too late.

"You're Lyanna Stark," Rhaegar said with half a smile.

Jon froze in place when the mystery knight lowered her shield and revealed the face of his mother. She had the same eyes as he did and the same kind of hair. And the way they both looked each other was the way Jon looked when he was brooding. Now he knew who he inherited that trait from.

He wanted to say something but realized there was no point. She wouldn't be able to his words.

Rhaegar started laughing uncontrollably. He laughed so hard he fell to his knees.

"So I'm a woman." Lyanna hissed. "What's so funny about that?"

"Nothing," Rhaegar told her, "I'm laughing from amazement that someone like you could best me. Not even knights with three times the victories as me have been able to knock me down."

"It's because you weren't riding right. You sit on your horse like it's a chamberpot. I only fell because I wasn't prepared for that lance." She stared him down with a fierceness just like Lyanna Mormont.

There was a brief silence between them. Rhaegar couldn't stop looking at her in amazement. "You are marvelous, Lady Lyanna. But my father wants your head."

"You can come and try to take it, but you won't have the remains of one when I'm done with you."

"And a direwolf too," Rhaegar stated. "You're an incredible rider, but I can already tell you're not a good fighter. You won't last a minute against me."

Lyanna looked nervous as she tried to keep her resolve.

"But it's such a shame I couldn't the Mystery Knight. Only the shield he carried."

Lyanna's became surprised and her fierce mask broke. "What?"

"The shield you found, didn't you know it belongs to mystery knight?" Rhaegar arched his brow at Lyanna, waiting for her to catch on.

"You're letting me go?"

"How can I let you go? I never caught you. You were at Harrenhal during the entire search." He stepped closer, but Lyanna kept her guard up.

"You're trying to trick me."

"Not at all. You could call it admiration."

"Pardon, your grace?"

"For your skill, bravery, and valor. Only a few have been able to unhorse me and the way you defended that man's honor...if you weren't wanted by my father I would see that you were knighted. You possess the true qualities of a knight." Rhaegar stepped closer to he until he was only an arm's reach away. They both spent a moment just looking at each other, but more in the sense of their characters than their features.

"Do you promise you won't tell anyone?"

"I swear on my life and honor as a prince. I only wish I could reward you somehow."

"Don't tell anyone, that's how."

He calmly took the shield from her without resistance. "Best get back before I do."

Jon and Bran were taken to the tourney grounds of Harrenhal. The morning had turned into afternoon and hundreds of people have gathered all around, cheering loudly. And sitting high above them all in a booth of stone was the Mad King himself.

The sudden sounds of galloping hooves made Jon turn around and he saw a horse charging straight for him. He jumped out of the way while Bran remained unfazed. The horse passed through him and he looked amused at Jon.

"Oh, right." Jon got back to his feet and looked to the horse. The rider atop was in golden armor and just broke his lance against Rhaegar's shield.

"Come, there's a spot over there we can watch." Bran led Jon to where they both had a clear view. Both Rhaegar and his opponent prepared for their next tilt and charged for one another. "It's the final tilt between Rhaegar and Ser Barristan."

When the jousters were in range of the riders, Rhaegar's struck true and he unhorsed Ser Barristan.

A crier appeared on the field and praised the winner for all to hear. "Hail the champion, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen!" Everyone watching applauded and cheered loudly for their gallant prince as he removed his helm. "Now the time has come to crown your queen of love and beauty!" A servant came out and placed a crown of winter roses on the end of Rhaegar's lance.

Rhaegar looked over to where his wife Elia sat and she looked absolutely happy that he won. But as he rode his horse over, he passed her without a second glance. Everyone fell silent when Rhaegar placed the crown before Lyanna.

"Er… the queen of love and beauty, Lyanna of House Stark!" The crier attempted to regain the energy of the audience but very few applauded and cheered. No one was smiling at what just happened. No one except Rhaegar.

The world vanished all around into what could be called a sea of mist that reformed into a hillside near a river. Drinking from the waters was a horse and standing next to it was Lyanna with the hood of her cloak draped over her head.

"Where are we now?" Jon asked.

"A day's ride north of Riverrun," Bran told him. He pointed out to a group of three riders coming from the south.

Lyanna noticed them approaching and pulled down her hood. She looked relieved and at the same time afraid.

The leader of the riders, Rhaegar, dismounted as soon as he could and ran to Lyanna. The moment they met, he kissed her deeply and so did she to him. When they finally parted lips for breath, Rhaegar spoke to her. "Did you tell them?"

"I… I couldn't bring myself to. So I left a letter for Brandon. He should have found it by now. I just hope they can forgive me."

"If your father is the opposite of your brother like you said, then I'm sure he will. I've made the arrangements for us. There's a small tower in Dorne that no one uses. Until everything is ready, we can stay there."

Lyanna sighed in relief before her gaze went to the two Kingsguard still astride their horses.

"Lyanna, forgive my manners. May I introduce the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Gerold Hightower and the Sword of the Morning Ser Arthur Dayne.

"My lady," Ser Gerold greeted.

"Rhaegar, they're sworn to king, not you."

"Yes. But to me, they are my brothers. And I know they would never betray me."

"We are sworn to protect the crown prince," Ser Arthur said. "We are not to judge him." He shrugged his shoulders at her. "But I support my friend in his choice."

Rhaegar smiled at him before turning back to Lyanna. "Come, there's a ship waiting to take us to Starfall."

Lyanna nodded before mounting her horse and waiting for Rhaegar.

"That's enough for tonight, Jon." Bran placed his hand on his shoulder, but Jon shrugged him away and chased after the horses.

"Mother!" Jon called out. He didn't mean to, he just did it.

Lyanna halted her horse and turned her gaze behind her.

Jon froze in place when he thought she heard him, but not once did she ever meet his eyes.

Rhaegar and the others turned to her. "Is something wrong, Lyanna?" Rhaegar asked.

"I just have a feeling...I might not see my home ever again."

"You will," Rhaegar assured her. "When all of this is over, you will see your home again."

Jon and Bran returned to themselves. Lyarras backed away from them as they both caught their breath.

Jon had never felt such a fatigue weigh on him before. Warging took its toll but this was something else. It made him feel like the moments he experienced just before dying. It was horrifying and at the same time exhilarating which made it dangerous.

But that last moment he witnessed, he felt his heart break. He thought she heard him, but it perhaps was only a coincidence.

Jon turned to Bran who had already recovered. "Wait, not yet."

"That's enough, Jon. Believe me, when I was first using this power, all I wanted was to stay in the memories of those time, but that's all they are."

"Bran, please."

"It is beautiful beneath the ocean, but if you stay too long, you'll drown. I have seen greenseers of old waste their lives trapping themselves in the sight."

"I understand. Really, I do. It's just a memory no matter how much I want to be real before me. After tonight, I never want you to take me with you ever again. But I just need to see one last thing, please."

Bran sighed and eyed Jon silently. "I wish I had your fortitude and resilience to the ignorance the sight can bring back when I first learned how to use it. Summer, Hodor, Leaf, they all would still be alive if I hadn't given in to my temptation." He stretched out his arm to Jon. "One more and then no more."

"Aye." Jon took Bran's hand.

"Where do you want to see."

Jon had to fight to get the words out of his mouth. "The day my mother died."

Bran hesitated, but he nodded in acceptance to Jon's request. His eyes flashed white and soon after Jon felt himself being pulled back into the sight with Bran. The were hallway outside of a room. The sounds of quiet voices barely echoed to them.

Jon looked to Bran. "Could you wait here?"

"Aye. I already know what's in there." Bran stepped back to give him more space before Jon proceeded into the room.

When Jon entered he beheld a sword stained with blood leaning against the bed his mother was in. Next to her was his father, Ned, receiving a baby wrapped in a blanket.

"Promise me, Ned," Lyanna's body was covered in much blood, enough that she would not be able to recover. Her skin was pale as snow and her eyes barely open.

Jon walked over to the bedside opposite of himself and his father, knelt down to his mother and watched her. He reached out to her hand, trying to take it in his own, but felt nothing as his fingers rested in hers. It tormented him, but he had to be here for her when she passed.

"Promise me." Lyanna whispered.

Jon gazed upon his mother with much sorrow because he was only a shadow in this memory. "I never met you truly," Jon spoke to ears that could not hear his voice. "I didn't even know you were my mother until a year ago. I know Ned didn't tell me to protect me, and I forgive him for that. I just wish you could hear me say… I love you, mother."

Jon felt a sensation lightly squeeze his hand. He looked at it and saw his mother's fingers lightly hold his. He looked at her face and saw her eyes close as the last of her life slip out of her.

Jon returned to himself again, but this time didn't feel the fatigue. Instead, all he felt was the sting of the salt from tears. He wiped his eyes clean and looked at his brother.

"Jon, she-"

"Thank you, Bran, for showing me this. I'm going to bed now. You should too." Jon could tell that Bran knew what he felt, but would rather not know the truth of if his mother really did take his hand or not. Maybe it was just a movement of her body before death. But knowing that he felt something and maybe she did too was enough for him.

Bran was going to say something but held back. "Aye, we should."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers: What do you want?  
> Me: There's a new chapter update  
> Readers: I thought I told you never to call me at this number  
> Me: But I miss you. It feels like hardly hear from you.  
> Readers: That's because I don't love you anymore
> 
>  
> 
> SHOW ME THE MONEY!


	87. Cersei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late chapter. This was originally going to be a Jaime Chapter but about three pages in I was like... this is just boring filler! I would never that to you all again. So with the fantastic help of my beta, we have given what I wish I have done more of. CERSEI! THE MAD QUEEN!!!!!!!  
> Next chapter should be released shorter than it took for this one.
> 
> If you didn't see the note from the last chapter, Ch 1-11 have been updated and revised. I highly recommend rereading 11, the battle of the bastards. It's far better than what I first did.
> 
> On another note for the fans of my other fic, the Ghost, I am working on Ch 10 whenever I get the feels to add in a paragraph or two and it could be released before Night Dragons is finished. It's got some good stuff in there.

Cersei

The agony of sleep was interrupted by knocking of a door. Cersei's eyes fluttered open and the fatigue of slumber lingered greatly. There was hardly any light from outside and someone had the audacity to wake her at such an hour. She attempted to roll herself up, but the captain in her bed blocked her path. Daario Naharis was decent at the very least, but his style of pleasure was like a battle he meant to conquer. He was becoming dull, but she couldn't burn him like the others.

Cersei sat herself up and pulled the furs to her when the cold of the room met her body. "Enter." She called out.

The door opened and Bernadette walked in. Although walking was too generous a word for what was more of a limp. Bloodbeard of the Company of the Cat liked to bed his women roughly and painfully. Cersei didn't care as long as he killed her enemies when the time came. "Forgive me for waking you, your Grace. You said to inform you when your scouts have returned. They arrived just an hour ago."

"And?"

Bernadette was dumbfounded with her words. "They… await for you in the small council room, your grace."

Daario began stirring as he woke up. "Should I take my leave?" He mumbled.

"Now," Cersei told him.

Daario shrugged out of the bed, fully naked in front of Bernadette without a single care. He put on his breeches began dressing the rest of himself as he left.

Cersei straightened herself in the bed. "Inform the scouts that they shall continue to wait until I arrive. Send for the other handmaidens to bathe and dress me."

"At once, your grace." Bernadette curtsied and swiftly left.

Cersei fell back down to her silk pillows and stared up at the canopy of her bed. Her blood boiled at being woken up at such an ungodly hour. She hadn't the need of scouts until the whispers from Qyburn's little birds grew less and less frequent. Whatever the reason, it shouldn't have been a problem for them. She had spies in Winterfell itself after the Starks took it back. But after word of the Wildfire attack had been carried out, her loyal bannermen and her spies had become silent. Her eyes and ears reached out only to the lands south of the capital.

The only thing that gave her any form of relief was when those who pledged themselves and their armies to her not cowardly enough to run back to their keeps or treacherous enough to bend the knee had returned to her. Three thousand men but less than half as many horses. It hardly made a difference in her number. Houses like the Lorches, the Presters, the Swyfts, they all once commanded thousands of men each. Now they hardly a single of that number.

Cersei closed her eyes and pictured her enemies in her mind. She imagined the dragon whore's body mounted on a spike and paraded naked through the streets. Her Dragons skinned of their scales and feasted upon by hounds in the kennels. The bastard of Winterfell cut in two after witnessing his babes crushed by the Mountain. Her monster brother choking to death on poison and Sansa burning alive in wildfire. They will all burn in an ocean of beautiful green flames.

She shuffled out of bed and poured herself a glass of wine while she waited for her handmaidens to tend to her. She walked out to the windows and looked out. It was snowing again. The rooftops of King's Landing were covered in white. The whole city looked cold and empty.

She drank into her cup as her body shivered. She hardly felt the cold, she hardly but anger felt anything these days. The only times she did feel were when news of the Targaryens getting closer angered her. The only thing that could bring her out of that was the pleasure of dealing with those that dared to whisper their support for such usurpers.

The handmaidens finally arrived and hurried in their work to prepare their queen. All of them worked without a single error. They feared what would befall them if they did not please or slacked in their efforts.

One of them presented her with her morning dose of Moon Tea. Cersei wouldn't let some sellsword's bastard or any for that matter to be planted in her. No, the only child that would grow again would be from the only one who deserved to have their seed quickened in her. Once all of this was over and the Targaryens were dead, he would come back to her. She knew he would. But if he didn't, she wouldn't let him run from her again. She would chain him down and make him hers.

Cersei thought back to the days long before any of this, back when she was just an idiot girl who believed her father would give her whatever she asked. He promised her Rhaegar and it wasn't to be. He was given a Martell bitch before tossing her aside for a Stark whore who couldn't close her legs.

Rhaegar should have been hers. He could have if she hadn't let her father get in the way. If she had done things herself she would have been to a man greater than Robert could have ever been.

But in the end, Rhaegar was just as mad as his father. Her children being spared silver hair and violet eyes was a blessing. Her children were true royalty that deserved a thousand thrones. They all would have risen higher than any dragon could hope to fly. If only… if only her father hadn't gotten near them. He couldn't save Joffrey, he wouldn't let Myrcella come home, and he didn't kill Tyrion when he had the chance and died. Leaving Tommen open for fanatic peasants.

Scrubbed clean and dressed, Cersei was wrapped in a black cloak of wolf fur. She planned to have the bastard's direwolf skinned into a new one when all was won.

She walked through the halls to the throne room, escorted only by the Mountain and two others of her Queensguard. The other four awaited in the small council room for her.

Everything in the castle was so quiet. Only footsteps echoed where whispers and gossip once had. All for the better. The less of prattling of nobles and other fools at court the better. They were all just belligerent idiots trying to suckle at their queen's teats in hopes she will mother them.

Cersei entered the small council room to see a group of three men standing by the table. Qyburn awaited by his seat and bowed when she entered. "Your grace."

The omen took notice of her entrance and bowed as well.

Cersei took her seat and Qyburn took his after her. "What have you to report that could not wait until daylight?"

The tallest of them stepped forward. He was the most rugged of them with battle-worn armor and a shaggy black beard. "Apologies, your grace. We would've waited if it were somethin' else but it concerns your brother, Ser Jaime."

Cersei's interest peaked. "Go on."

"A squad of our men was killed scoutin' de Riverlands more than a fortnight ago. One escaped and said he spotted your brother with three others. A man with a half-burned face, a girl with a wolf bigger than a fuckin' horse and the tallest woman he's ever seen." By the descriptions given, it had to be the Hound, Arya Stark, and that cow of a woman Brienne of Tarth. "They weren't with their army. They were all alone and heading west. Only thing he managed to pick up from a listen was they're coming here."

"Obviously. The most important war in history will be at our doorstep and those traitors are not cowards of battle."

"No, but why are they away from their army?" Qyburn asked. "The Targaryens have named Ser Jaime as Lord of Casterly Rock and the Westerlands. Should their sworn sword not be leading his army with them?" He had a point. What could her brother be doing if not be with his declared usurper of a king? There was nothing in the Westerlands that could bring him there. Casterly Rock was empty of anything useful, every soldier was gone. But what about his company? The wench of Tarth was no surprise. She clung to her like a lost pup. But the Hound hated the Lannister family almost as much as the little wolf bitch. But the sellsword did report that they said they were coming here. They were coming for her.

"Qyburn."

"Yes, your grace?"

"Have your experiments proved to be fruitful?"

"Almost as much as Ser Gregor. They do not have his strength, however." The sellswords kept their mightiest in check and out of Cersei's grip, but Qyburn's little birds found many worthy candidates for her new force of soldiers. Men who wouldn't feel pain or fatigue. Wounds wouldn't be a bother and neither would blood. She had this plan set in motion after witnessing the wight at the Dragonpit. If the White Walkers army was so powerful with soldiers like that, then she needed one too. Unfortunately, it wasn't near as many as she wanted. Only a dozen or so were strong enough to withstand the procedure.

"That will be enough. I want them stationed in the Red Keep as soon as they're ready."

"I shall work until they are beyond your expectations, your grace. I need a day more and what they shall wear and wield."

Qyburn was the most loyal and providing of her servants. If he needed a day, then so be it. She would not rush his work at the cost of possible failure. She couldn't let anything like that happen at such a crucial moment before the fate of two dynasties would be chosen.

Cersei smirked as she eyed the scouts. "The abilities your men have are incredible, but not enough that they cannot enter the encampments of the Targaryens?"

"They've tried, grace. They get close but then the same thing's happened every time. The connection with the beasts are severed and some of 'em even get caught. One of our boys got the closest than anyone else. Before he could really see anything, his owl was surrounded by a flock of ravens."

"Ravens," Cersei stated.

"Much like the reports of Brandon Stark." Qyburn reminded. "He is, as the reports have said, the most powerful in that area of ability."

"It seems the cripple has woken up. This will affect the battle greatly. He may perceive our strategies and traps we've laid."

"If he's with the Targaryens army, then they have most likely already devised a strategy. We'll just have to do the same now that we know."

"That's another thing, your grace." The man said. He stood nervously before continuing on. "We were caught on our way back here and brought before the King himself. He didn't question us much or interrogate anything. He just seized our weapons and sent us back here with a message."

Cersei unconsciously balled her fists. Her nails dug into the skins of her palms. "What did the bastard have to say?"

The sellsword pulled out a parchment and handed it to her. It was sealed with the Targaryen sigil of course.

Cersei broke the seal and unraveled the scroll and read aloud what was written.

" _Cersei of House Lannister, Queen of King's Landing_

" _I, Aegon Targaryen, write to ask that we meet for a parley upon my arrival at King's Landing. You will hear my terms of your surrender in person and those who have pledged themselves to you. I invite you with the promise of protection into my camps. You and your followers will come unarmed and will refrain from any hostilities. Any treachery while under my protection shall be met with Fire and Blood. I shall host you at twilight of the day after our arrival._

_Aegon of House Targaryen, son of Rhaegar of House Targaryen and Lyanna of House Stark."_

Cersei crumpled the message in her hand. "That pretentious boy, thinking a bastard can be called a king."

"There is also a letter fr-from the Hand of the Queen, Lord Tyrion Lannister." He hurried to hand her the message.

Cersei nearly ripped this one unraveling it. She read it silently to herself.

_-To the Mad Queen, I once had to call sister_

_I believe such a parley is futile with you, yet the true King has ignored my council. I would have you killed the moment you set foot near hear and end this all for good. You have destroyed our house more than will acknowledge, As such, I would like to say, it is in the best interest that you meet with us. In the end, you are still my sister and I do not want to see any more of our blood spilled. There are few of us remaining. I owe a debt for the children you have lost because of me, and I repay it by convincing the King to allow you to live out your days._

_Sincerely, the Imp of Casterly Rock and Hand to the King and Queen-_

She was seething as she tore the parchment into pieces. That little monster would dare to accuse her of his crimes against her family. When all was won, she would have Qyburn take his time killing him. It would be where the people could see. Where she could enjoy all of it. "The crown thanks you for your service and when the war is won you shall be rewarded for your bravery. Send a reply to the Targaryen bastard. The Crown accepts his invitation for a parley."

"Are you sure, your grace?" Qyburn asked. "It could be a trap."

"No, he is still Ned Stark's bastard at heart. The fool won't go against his word. Even if he does, you know what to do." She glared at the men still here and watched them scurry out of the room. Now alone, Cersei turned to Qyburn. "A scout that cannot remain hidden is useless." She tapped her fingers on the table as she thought about her situation. "I suppose even my mercy and generosity wasn't enough for Ned Stark's Bastard. I offered him his kingdom and instead, he comes greedily for the rest."

"Indeed, your grace, " Qyburn said with an agreeing smirk.

"He'll want my head, no doubt. If the cripple is with him, then they'll know that the wildfire is still beneath the city."

"Most likely. However, as long as it remains, we have leverage against any action they take. Only a single false move and they shall watch the land be swallowed by fire and smoke. My little birds have had a bit more success now that they mustn't go very far from home. The Targaryens have no siege weapons and not the time nor the means to build any when they arrive. They will desire a final battle." He grew silent after that. "But… there is a problem, your grace."

Cersei arched her brow. She wasn't surprised at all.

"The castle larders are completely empty. The fishermen have nearly depleted the bay of any game and our raids from the Reach will not return in time."

"Then we have no choice. We must face the Targaryens and meet them in battle. We only need to adjust our course of strategy."

Qyburn nodded and bowed, leaving Cersei's presence. She moved to the table and poured herself another cup of wine, downing it in one gulp before refilling it and turning back to the table. The message from the Northern bastard lay there and, though wrecked from her rage, still legible enough for her to make the last line.  _Son of Rhaegar of House Targaryen and Lyanna of House Stark. The very words mocked her._

It was still unbearable to her thinking of Rhaegar with the wolf-bitch. And where had it led her? In the end, she died, leaving her whelp to be bastardized by his uncle?

She thought back to those days, after the rebellion. Robert had been crowned and her father was brokering a marriage for her. "Queen you shall be", Tywin Lannister had declared and he never went back on his word. She'd actually be pleased initially and eager to provide heirs to Robert Baratheon. But he held out, waiting for Ned Stark to return with his sister. Robert would have married her even if she had been taken against her will. And the day when the Northerners returned, Stark and the little Crannogmen, Robert had thrown himself upon the box holding her bones.

Cersei had tried to be there, soothe his pain, but she had seen three whores enter his room on that nightfall. It hadn't mattered, at the time. Kings were expected to him mistresses and Robert already had a bastard, that she knew. Yet Robert continued to mourn, almost demanding a funeral in the Great Sept, but Stark had refused, preferring his tree gods to the splendor of the Faith.

She was happy to see them go back North. Almost as soon as they left the Red Keep, her father had gone to Robert and secured the marriage. The ceremony took place a fortnight later, with all the lavishness you would see at a royal wedding, especially one paid for with Lannister gold.

Her marriage, however, died that night, in bed, as Robert screamed Lyanna's name in the throws of passion.

The next morning, she actually wondered what it was that attracted men to Lyanna Stark. How had she bewitched not one, but two, so that they'd choose her, dour-faced and pale, to the Cersei's own golden beauty? And now the fruit of that sinful union was back to torment her.

No, she resolved. They would not win. The she-wolf would not win from the grave. Her bastard would only set foot in the throne room to the heat of wildfire.

The leading Sellsword captains entered the room, all of them hulking with furs and reeking of the stench beer and ale.

Harry Strickland took a seat at Cersei's left, across from Qyburn. Next to him sat Blood Beard and Illorno of the Long Lances. All the way across from Cersei sat Daario Naharis.

"We've heard the news from the scouts." Blood Beard growled. His voice was like that of a great bear.

"I suspected you did. The Targaryens are nearly here and so is the war. Are you growing afraid of the dragons and the Dothraki?" Cersei asked.

"I've a cloak of half a hundred Dothraki braids I've taken myself. I revel at the challenge."

"Good. Because before that, we have another problem that must be first addressed. Qyburn, have your little birds heard the whispers of those who shouldn't have?"

"Indeed, your grace."

"Excellent. Inform the captains and their men. It's time to root out the vipers trying to climb out of the pit."

While Qyburn informed the captains of the tasks, Daario approached Cersei. "Are you sure this is a wise move?"

"Didn't your whore queen do the same thing in Essos to the masters?"

"Aye, but that was against slavers. This is just ruling by fear. It's not far off from your Mad King!"

Cersei's blood flared up at being compared to Aerys Targaryen. "Is that what you think I am doing? The Mad King burned people alive to amuse himself. I am cleansing the city of those that would undermine me." By the time she had finished, Harry Strickland entered the conversation.

"So wouldn't it be wiser to give the people a trial instead of this? Or throw them into the black cells?"

Cersei scoffed at that suggestion. "We don't have time for trials. The armies of the bastard are going to be upon us soon. If we wait, surely their spies will infiltrate the city and convince them to rise up against me. No, it must needs be done this way, and soon."

Cersei strode into the throne room with all her grace. She sat down onto the Iron Throne where she belonged and nodded to the guard at the doors. They swung open and members of the court began pouring in. There were not many as before with winter settled in.

After all of them were a row of people in chains escorted by the City watch. There were men and women both young and old, even a little brown haired girl no older than ten.

They were all brought before Cersei and forced to kneel. Many of them had looks of absolute fear about them while the few others had anger. One of them did so much as to look directly at Cersei as if he was about to challenge her. With only a single glance to one of the guards, the man was beaten across the face by the steel of a gauntlet.

Cersei lifted her head high and address the members of the court. "Before you are those who would conspire to submit to the seed of the Mad King and betray their rightful queen. Such acts cannot go without punishment." Cersei's gaze found the little girl. Her face was red from tears. "Bring that one forward," Cersei ordered.

Two Gold Cloaks unchained the girl and forced her to be directly in front of Cersei.

"What is your name, little one?" Cersei asked with a honeyed voice.

"M-Maryne."

"Your grace " Qyburn informed the girl politely.

"Maryne, your grace."

"And why is it you were brought before me?"

"I was only playing with my friends! They were slavers and I was the dragon queen. It was just a game." The girl slithered into herself almost to try and hide from everyone.

Cersei smirked at that. Such a peasant had no will in the court of royalty. "Just a game. And my guards saw fit to arrest you for that? How idiotic of them." The girl looked up at Cersei with hope flickering in her red eyes. "Tell me, what do you know of Daenerys Targaryen? What stories have you heard?"

"Um… well… she freed the slaves in Essos, she fought the White Walkers in the North, and how she can walk through fire without being burned. That's why she's called the Unburnt."

Cersei smiled down at her. "Such stories. We live in an age where the most unthinkable of things are becoming possible. Isn't it marvelous?"

The girl nodded shyly.

"Incredibly so. But wouldn't a girl like you rather play with her toys?"

"I don't have any, your grace. That's why I like playing pretend."

Cersei looked the little girl over. Her hair that could be seen from under the dirty and lice, was pitch black, about as far as one could get from Myrcella's golden locks. "Well, that's no good. A little girl like you should have the pleasure of such joys as toys. Even grownups still do. Ours are just a little more different than little wooden soldiers or dolls. Men like to play with swords and horses and fight each other. Women like to play with needles and thread. Does your mother like to sew, little one?"

The little girl shook her head. "She died after I was born. I live with my daddy. He doesn't know I'm here. Can I go home please, your grace?"

Cersei smiled down at her. "I would first like to apologize for the misunderstanding. Why don't you stay for an hour and we shall have you clean and repay for your trouble? I'll see to it that your father is told of your whereabouts."

The little girl attempted a curtsy but it was a pitiful thing to see. "Thank you, Queen Cersei."

One of the handmaidens came to retrieve the little girl. "Please see that a warm bath is drawn for this sweetling, " she ordered before turning back to Maryne. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? A bath, nice and warm."

The girl nodded eagerly and the two of them left the throne room into the innermost part of the castle. Cersei nodded to one of the sellswords and he followed them.

Cersei turned to Qyburn. "Find out where her father is and have him brought to Red Keep tonight. I will want him to join his daughter this evening."

"Yes, your grace."

She turned back to the remaining prisoners. "The rest of those accused are guilty and sentenced to execution by Ser Illyn Payne. Their heads shall decorate the walls of the city as a reminder to those who would support usurpers leading armies of traitors and foreign savages."

The throne room echoed with pleas for mercy as the gold cloaks dragged the accused out. The nobles of the court remained silent as they should. When the noises were gone, Cersei addressed those who listened. "Any others still hiding in the city shall be rooted out and suffer the same fate. And it shall start in this very room." Cersei nodded to her captains and all of them and a select few of their men began moving on the nobles in court.

Noblemen and women screamed out as spears were plunged into their bodies and blades ran across their throats.

Those that were spared such justice ran from areas being covered in blood in absolute horror. Some even could not contain their disgust and vomited on the floors of the Throne Room.

Cersei didn't blank at all as it happened and she didn't shut out the screams and sounds of flesh being sliced by steel. It was such a release to watch as traitors were given what they deserved.

When the last of the bodies fell, everyone who could only watch the brutality happen silently looked at the bodies that littered the throne room.

Some of the other captains had entered after the slaughter, Daario Naharis and Harry Strickland among them. Both of them were unfazed but had a look of turmoil in their eyes as they walked past all the blood and bodies. Harry had left the room entirely without a word but Daario merely went off to the side to observe what would happen next. He climbed onto one of the window seals to watch from a vantage point.

Cersei sat tall when all eyes fell on her for the same question. "You may be asking, why has this been done? If dragons do not burn the city down, then its walls will be breached by Unsullied and traitorous soldiers. Women and children will be enslaved and raped by Dothraki heathens. The monsters of children's stories are coming for us all. And these were the people who would serve you up to them all."

"They're not coming." Daario Naharis called out the court. He was leaning against one of the windows with his head poking up just above the opening. He had a smirk about his face as he looked to the outside. "They're here."

Almost on cue, several of her House's bannermen still loyal to her ran into the room. "Your grace!" one of them called as they rushed into the room. But they all halted and were speechless at the scene before them. When they gave Cersei the same look that the nobles did, she only glared at him.

"Do you have something to report?" She asked as if nothing had even happened that mattered.

"Your grace, the dragons have been spotted flying in the distance."

The entire court began to murmur and whisper among themselves.

Cersei kept herself regal and in form. "Call every man of the City Watch. Man the defenses and prepare to protect the city."

The men all bowed before rushing back out where they came.

"We are adjourned for today," Cersei announced. "Return to your homes and take shelter from those that would seek to rob you of that and everything else you hold dear."

After adjourning the court, she had the sellsword carry the girl back into the throne room to give her the bath that was promised. He held her as Qyburn prepared the pyre that would be lit. When that had been done, she watched in awe as the green flames licked the girl's skin and reveled in the screams. Cersei saw from the side of her sight the horror on the face of Daario, but he never turned away.

After it was over, they had gone back to her apartments. It hadn't been their usual lovemaking, but it was satisfactory enough. Afterward, mercifully, he had remained silent and fallen off to sleep next to her. It was a few hours later that the father had been brought to her and shown his daughter's ashes. As he sobbed and fell to the ground, begging to have his child back, she obliged him.

With the hour of twilight drawing near, it was time for Cersei to leave. She dressed in her best black dress and wore a thick cloak with the pelt of a grey wolf. She was escorted by Ser Gregor and her Queensguard out of the keep to the carriage waiting for her with Daario riding beside her.

As they neared the portcullis, Cersei smirked as she caught a glimpse of the heads being mounted on spikes and the small burned corpse being hung next to her father's from the battlements.

The carriage ride went smoothly over the snow-covered roads. It was almost like it was gliding. There were a few times it got stuck but it wasn't anything too serious. Other than that, the only enjoyable thing about being out of the city was being away from the smell of shit. It felt good to breathe in fresh air once again.

It was a long journey. Cersei was smart to leave as early as she did. The hours passed by until finally, the carriage came to a halt. They had arrived. She stepped out of the carriage and was surprised to see two columns of Unsullied soldiers forming a pathway to the location of the parley. They stood two by two. The inner soldiers facing inward and the outer facing outward.

Waiting to greet her and her entourage was a man she recognized from the Dragonpit. He was one of the men in the bastard's company rather than the dragon whore's. Behind him were twenty Dothraki and the sellsword Tyrion was friends with, Ser Bronn of the Blackwater.

"Greetings, your grace." The man spoke. "I am Ser Davos Seaworth, sworn advisor to the King. I am here to escort you to him."

Ser Bronn stepped forward. "We'll be taking your weapons first."

Cersei glared knives at him. Another traitor she would punish individually. "And Why should allow you to disarm my guard and those sworn to me?"

"Because the King's the one who promised your protection and not anybody else."

Ser Davos cleared his throat. "I'm sure your grace wouldn't have made the journey if you had doubts. Your men will accompany you as they are sworn to just as our King will have his own."

This pisswater knight was a perceptive one. She remembered him now as the Hand of the King to Stannis Baratheon. Stannis was a seasoned man and dominant leader, there was no denying it. To have someone as such as his Hand meant that this man was not a bumbling fool like half the lot in history who had the job.

Cersei turned to her men and nodded. Her Queensguard and the Sellsword leaders all began to undo their sword belts and handing over their other weapons to the Dothraki savages. Ser Bronn stepped up to her and eyed her suspiciously. "That includes you too, your grace."

Cersei smirked at him for noticing. She pulled at the buckle of her belt and unsheathed the hidden blade concealed within. She gave it to Ser Bronn he stepped back and began inspecting the others.

He gave each one a good look before moving on to the other. "They're all clean." He announced and nodded to Ser Davos.

"Everythin's in order. Right this way." But as Cersei and her men followed Ser Davos, Daario Naharis was stopped by Ser Bronn.

"What?" Daario asked. "I gave you my weapons like everyone else."

Ser Bronn reached his hand into the back of Daario's clothes and pulled out a dagger with the hilt of a naked golden woman.

Daario smirked at him. "I'll want that back. I like that dagger."

One sellsword matched the other in smirks. "Aye, it is a fine bit of arse and tits on this one. When this is over, I'd actually like to hear where you acquired it. Might want to get one of my own." With that, he looked back to Ser Davos and nodded once again.

Cersei contained her anger at Daario's idiocy. If he had been found with that after being permitted he would have lost his head. If Not by the bastard then by her for being such a fool.

The entire walk was silent. The only sounds that were made were from beyond where they were. Sounds of steel ringing and horses neighing. Besides the Unsullied and the two knights, there was no one in sight. Most likely they were not permitted to be near in case anyone got the idea of being a hero to the usurpers they called king and queen.

Shortly though, they all came to a large tent. Standing by the entrance with the unsullied were two giants with armor made of wood and iron. One of them growled at her group and made a few flinch.

"Best not to stare." Ser Davos advised. "They get angry when you do. And a fist from them can pound you into the ground like a nail." The flaps of the entrance were opened by two unsullied and Everyone began to pour in.

The space was void of any furniture except for chairs and tall candlesticks. The light was dim but enough that the shadows were repelled from the tent. The chairs form two half circles that were spaced apart so they did not connect into a full circle.

Cersei did her best to keep herself composed. She fought her emotions as she beheld the bastard dressed more glorious than she. That pitiful crown he wore at the Dragonpit was replaced by a crown of Valyrian Steel and rubies, the crown of Aegon the Conqueror. To add to that, he wore Valyrian steel armor decorated with dragons and direwolves. The leather straps of his cloak were stamped with the direwolf of House Stark. Beside him on his left was Ser Jorah Mormont in a set of armor and a cloak as white as the snow that the rest of the Targaryen Kingsguard wore and on the right was that freakish white direwolf of his. The red eyes of the beast stared deep into her.

Cersei looked at him, really looked at him for perhaps the first time. He had the Stark traits of the long faces and the dark hair, but at that moment, the light from the candles hit his eyes in such a way that they looked indigo. It was that almost otherworldly Targaryen color, the same as Prince Rhaegar's. And that face, the one full of such sadness, brought back her memories. It always broke her heart. She was transported back, oh so briefly, to when she was young and would dream of taking away his pain. He would be sitting on the Iron Throne, wearing that magnificent crown of steel and rubies and she would be at his side.

This was the son she had yearned to give Prince Rhaegar, yet he was from another woman. She took a breath, to compose herself. This was his son even if every part of her still couldn't accept it.

What would her father say to this sight? Not even he would be able to stand tall against this presence.

She saw Tyrion there, catching her expression. She swore to herself. The look that he was giving her told of the fact of what she was thinking. His gaze fell upon the bastard then back to her, a look of, was that sadness? No, it was pity. That monster had the audacity to think he could just give her such?

The foreign woman who had been standing to the side of Tyrion stepped forward in view of all of them. "You stand before Aegon of the House Targaryen, the Sixth of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of Westeros and Protector of the Realm. The Father of the Night Dragons, the White Wolf, the Winter Dragon, The Sword of the Evening, The Slayer of the Night King."

There was a moment of silence for each guest to absorb the many titles and the essence of the bastard decorating himself as a king. She flashed him a smile. "Let us remember,  _Lord Snow_ , that I am the one sitting on the Iron Throne."

"But how many kingdoms are sworn to that throne?" Tyrion asked. "Because by my count, the seven ruling lords of the seven kingdoms have bent the knee to the rightful king and queen."

If Cersei held something in her hands, it would shatter at her vice-like clench. "As long as the throne is mine, I am the queen."

He gave her one of his looks that he would before saying something clever. "For being the one to always say you listened to Father, you seem to have forgotten his greatest lesson. 'Any man who has to say 'I am the King' is no true king'. The only thing the man standing before you ever declared himself as was being a bastard."

"That's enough, Lord Tyrion," the bastard said. "We invited you here to discuss an end to the war, be it by words or bloodshed. I'd rather keep the hostilities for tomorrow if that's how it shall be." He walked next to his designated seat and stood by. "Shall we begin?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I read that last bit, I hear Eggs Benedict Cumberbatch from Star Trek as Khan, Shall we Begin?
> 
> Love to hear from your guys. NOW SHOW ME THE MONEY!


End file.
